Murphy's Law
by Lightning4119
Summary: Harry wins but has nobody to share the victory with. He tries to go back and change things, but since he's Harry Potter, things go wrong. Harry with a backbone. May feature decent!Dumbles and Snape. Harmony-ish. May be Gray!Harry later. M for a reason.
1. Prologue

Harry looked around the battlefield, taking in the carnage. He had finally defeated Voldemort, but at a terrible cost. His friends lay dead around him. Ron had died fighting Fenrir Greyback, attempting to avenge his brother. Ginny had been hit by a stray Killing Curse trying to save him. Moody, Lupin, Tonks, and the twins Fred and George had all died fighting the Death Eaters. McGonagall and Flitwick had been seriously wounded, and Madam Pomfrey said that it was unlikely they would live through the night. Slughorn had fled at the first sign of battle, and the bodies of Harry's friends lay scattered around him. Hermione's death had hit him the worst. She had pulled him out of the way of a Cutting Hex, taking a Killing Curse from Lucius Malfoy in the back in the process. She had died in his arms.

Harry had defeated Voldemort through a trick. He had fired a high-powered Blasting Hex at the castle and dropped the entire Gryffindor Tower on Voldemort. His last words had been "_Avada_- oh, bugger me," and then a revolting splat.

Harry moved slowly through the battlefield, finding the bodies of his friends. Their faces seemed to stare at him, angry at their own deaths and blaming him from beyond the grave. Oliver Wood. He had died fighting Lucius Malfoy. Dean Thomas. Seamus Finnigan. Luna Lovegood. Ginny Weasley. Her death didn't seem to bother Harry nearly as much as the others. Neville Longbottom had fallen while fighting Bellatrix. His eyes were still open and fixed straight ahead. Harry moved to close them gently, but Neville's hand snapped up and grabbed him by the wrist. The boy groaned in pain and clutched at the gaping belly wound Bellatrix had given him before he had killed her.

"Harry….I'm not going….to live, am I?" the mortally wounded boy managed to grunt out.

"You're going to be just fine." Harry responded, a bit too quickly.

"Bull. I'm dying, and I know it….I just wish I could have told Luna…..that I love her...Harry, did you beat him?" Harry nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I got him."

"Good….Harry, if there ever was….a chance to change all this…..then take it….." The boy trailed off, his eyes glazing over, and a quiet rattle escaping his lips.

Harry leaned back his head and roared in pain and anguish, the tears falling freely. He pulled Neville over his shoulder, carrying his body back to the castle. Laying him near the corpses of the other people who had fallen in battle against the Death Eaters, Harry went up to the Hospital Wing.

Harry saw McGonagall and Flitwick lying in the two beds farthest from the door, McGonagall even more deathly pale than usual, and Flitwick writhing in pain. His old Transfiguration teacher had been hit with a blood loss curse by Macnair, and Flitwick had taken a modified form of the Cruciatus Curse, that continued to cause pain on a lesser scale even if the caster was killed. Yaxley had been just finished casting it when Kingsley hit him in the neck with a cutting curse, beheading him. Feeling drawn to them, Harry sat between his former teachers. He spoke quietly to McGonagall.

"Professor, it's over, but I don't know if it was worth it. Everyone I knew and cared is dead or dying. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Remus, Sirius, Dumbledore…" He trailed off. "If there was a way to go back, and change what has happened…" McGonagall looked at him sadly, and shook her head.

"Harry, I'm sorry to say that I do not know of any way to go back far enough in time to stop this from happening. A Time-Turner wouldn't take you back far enough." A groan sounded from behind Harry, and he turned to Flitwick.

"There's a way, Potter," Flitwick grunted out. "But it'd be risky. You'd be risking your own death at worst, and losing a good portion of your power at best. Most likely, we'd die in the process," Flitwick dissolved into more groans of pain for a few moments, and then continued, "but we're dying anyway. My question is, Harry," he continued slowly, "are you willing to take the risk?" Harry didn't hesitate, remembering Neville's final words.

"Yes. There's nothing left for me here."

"Then let's do it. It'll take both Minerva and myself, and a good portion of your power, to fling you back in time far enough."

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The three of them stood in a line abreast, Harry facing straight ahead, Flitwick and McGonagall facing Harry from either side. The two professors began twirling their wands, muttering in Latin, their wands flashing.

Harry began gathering up a large amount of his power, forcing it out through his wand without any spell to go with it. The raw magic gathered over him, joining with the directed magic from Flitwick and McGonagall. It began streaming down, forming a shell around Harry's body. When the shell closed around Harry, it began glowing brighter and brighter, eventually flashing, and then disappearing, taking Harry with it. The two teachers collapsed, dead. However, their timeline instantly vanished, replaced by a new one.

XXXXX

A warm, soft light surrounded Harry. He looked around. Wherever he was, it was not the Dursleys house, where he should have ended up. Instead, it looked oddly like…well, what one would imagine Limbo to look like. It looked like the lobby of an office building. He was at the door. To his left, there was a desk. To his right, there were two elevators, each with dials indicating the floors they were on. The left had it's dial pointing to the top floor. The right, to the bottom floor. Harry gulped. _If this is what I think it is, I'm in royally deep shit_. The elevators dinged, and the doors opened, each disgorging one person. From the right came a fit, tall black man wearing black jeans, a dark green t-shirt, and a black leather motorcycle jacket. A cigarette dangled off his lip. From the left came a tall, buxom redheaded woman, wearing a pair of tight jeans and a white blouse with the top two buttons undone, which was revealing some enticing cleavage. He heard a throat being cleared behind him, and turned to face the receptionist's desk and jumped back several feet. It was Dumbledore. Wearing a suit.

"You've caused us an awful lot of trouble, you know that?" Dumbledore said. "I mean, I'm not going to say I wasn't without fault. But seriously, did you have to let the entire seventh year class of Hogwarts, excluding the Slytherins, be killed off?" Harry shrugged.

"It's not like I intended for that to happen. That's why I came back to change it." The black man gave a barklike laugh and Harry turned to face him.

"If that's true, why did you commit suicide?" Harry's eyes widened. "Yeah, that's right, kid, you committed suicide. Interesting ritual, but the thing is, there's really no way to tell if it worked or not, so they can't tell if the thing works. Really, all it does is surround you in magic and shoot you into oblivion. Since you're a special case, we decided that we'd meet you here, instead of having Gramps here send you up or down."

"Down?" The man began to answer, but the woman cut in.

"Yes Harry. You've had quite a few sins on your record, mainly lust, sloth, and profanity."

"Lust? Excuse me? Baking powder?" The man snorted.

"The name Ginny Weasley ring a bell?" Harry nodded.

"That 'scaly monster' in your chest? That was lust. More accurately, it was a potion she was dosing you with to make you want her." Harry shook his head, trying to clear it.

"Wait, what? Potion? Lust? Ginny? What?" The man rolled his eyes.

"She was dosing you with a low-power love potion, boy. You aren't meant to be with her."

"Then how did I leave her after Dumbledore died?"

"Remember? You didn't eat in between leaving with Dumbledore and dumping Ginny. She never had a chance to dose you. That was a good thing, seeing as she was planning to get you to marry her right then." Seeing the look of horror on Harry's face, the woman cut in again.

"Anyway, you've also got several counts of sloth, although that also can be blamed on the Weasley family. Ron was one hell of a bad influence." Harry held up a hand.

"These are all reasons why I came back. To change all this. Or is that not an option?" The woman shrugged.

"It's theoretically possible, its just nobody's ever tried it with good intentions." The woman grinned. "However, even if we send you back, the timeline will repeat itself. Oooh, the Fates are going to LOVE this one." At Harry's quizzical look, she explained that Harry had become the Fate's favorite and loved to change their minds. Or in this case, entire sections of history. She finished with a "so if we send you back we'll have to give you all sorts of things to help you out!" The man had somehow procured a chair and a mug of beer during her spiel and was slowly sipping the froth off the top of the mug.

"So, what'cha say, kid?" Harry made a show of considering it. For about three seconds.

"Send me back." The man dropped his beer, which disappeared before it hit the floor, and took Harry by the arm, leading him to the up elevator. The woman followed with Dumbledore, and the elevator's doors closed, reopening a moment later to reveal…a beach scene? Harry looked around. It looked like something he had seen in one of Dudley's magazines, but at the time, he had been more focused on the nude model in the foreground. This, however, was perfect. The sunlight was just bright enough, there was a cool breeze, and the water was clear. Harry turned around and stumbled back. Behind him, there was a massive tunnel, brightly lit, with what looked oddly like a giant slingshot pointing down.

The man took him by the arm again and led him towards the tunnel, turning just before entering the tunnel and taking him into a brightly lit storage room. With a smooth motion, he relieved Harry of his wand and handed him a mug of a purple drink that was glowing and fizzing slightly.

"We're going to upgrade your wand's core, since Fawkes is getting on in his age. It'll be the same feather, so you'll still have the brother cores, for all the good that did you, but it'll be more powerful. Should balance out, seeing as you lost a good portion of your power in the jump." Harry opened his mouth to object, but the man kept talking.

"We're also going to give you a higher power level, seeing as you absolutely sucked at magic in your first and second years. That drink also will improve your Occlumency shields. That should give you more of a shot. Try not to stand out too much in class. You'll break Hermione's heart and probably tip off the wrong people."

"Me, for instance," A wheezing voice said. Harry turned as Dumbledore continued. "I admit that I was blinded. In my quest to protect 'the Greater Good', I forgot about the individual. Telling me about what's happened and what is to come would be a bad idea." Harry nodded. "However, feel free to make me run in circles trying to find out what is going on." Harry grinned.

"Sure thing, Gramps. Now, anything else, or should we go for a swim?" The man laughed again.

"Yeah, kid. One more thing. We're going to give you a few other items that we can't exactly send you back with. They'll be in the Shrieking Shack when you need them. As for the beach, I'm not sure if it's a good idea. I wouldn't mind, and I know Jane here wouldn't, but I'm not sure if we should let Dumbles in." Dumbledore looked hurt.

"I promise not to wear a…what is it the Muggles call it? A spee-doo?" Harry shook his head.

"No, it's probably best if I get going…as much as I want to see Jane in a swimsuit, I had better go. Otherwise I might not leave at all."

Ten minutes later, Harry was regretting ever leaving his timeline. He had been dressed up in a black bodysuit made of some plastic-like material and loaded nose-first into the barrel of the slingshot. He had been given a smooth, streamlined helmet and all the items he had been carrying had been taken away.

"Well, good luck, we'll look in from time to time, and watch out for Dumbledore and Snape." Dumbledore nodded, and Harry braced and closed his eyes. The man, who had introduced himself as John, pulled on a massive lever. It ground about two inches and stuck. Harry rolled his eyes. _Even in Heaven, nothing works._ John grunted, pulled, and the lever broke free. Harry heard a hissing sound and then a felt massive kick behind him, and he was suddenly shooting towards the earth at a blurring rate of speed.

Harry tried to draw breath and found he was screaming and tried to stop. Then he started again when he realized he was not wearing a parachute. He saw a Muggle neighborhood below him and closed his eyes, hoping he wouldn't make too much of a mess when he landed. The earth came up and Harry snapped up, nearly hitting his head on the underside of the stairs. He was back in the cupboard. It had worked. He head footsteps thumping down the stairs, and his whale of a cousin yelling at him to get up.


	2. Chapter 1

Harry was about to get into the car, when Vernon slammed the door shut and shoved him against the car.

"Look boy, I don't want any of your funny stuff today. Got it?" Harry felt a ball of anger growing in his chest.

"Look, you stupid whale, I'm sick of your crap. My _funny stuff_ isn't something you should worry about. So just get in and drive." Vernon seemed to turn a fluorescent purple, and then it faded as Harry struggled and managed to cast a weak Memory Charm wandlessly. He got in the car without another word.

When they arrived at the zoo, Harry let things take their course, into the reptile house. When he came to the Brazilian snake, Harry spoke directly to the snake in Parseltounge, knowing it would understand him.

"Look, in a moment or two, my fatass cousin is going to shove me onto the floor. If I break you out of here when he does, could you terrorize him a bit?" The snake stared at him a moment, and then nodded.

"Sssssure, amigo. You let me out of here, I'll ssscare your friend." Harry grinned.

Hearing the sound of Dudley's fat rolls slapping together approaching, Harry played along, letting Dudley punch him in the ribs and push him to the floor. When he hit the floor, Harry dug deep and Vanished the glass wandlessly, amazed at the strain.

Dudley fell in, and the snake curled around him, wrapping itself around his midsection. It amazed Harry that the snake, even as long as it was, could fit its body around the mass of blubber that called itself his cousin.

Dudley stood up, screaming and struggling under the weight of the snake, a strange-looking fluid leaking from his trousers. Harry snickered. The fat wanker had wet himself in terror. His rat-like friend, Piers, had run away screaming that a snake was eating his friend. "_Eating him? Even with a removable jaw, there's no way a snake could swallow Dudley!"_ Harry thought.

Laughing internally at this ridiculous situation, Harry sat back to watch the chaos and wished for some popcorn. He knew he couldn't conjure some, or use a Summoning Charm for some- he had had a hard enough time vanishing the glass to let the Dudley in and the snake out.

The snake gave Dudley one last squeeze around the midsection, laughing in a hissing voice (A/N- are snakes capable of laughing?), and then uncoiled and dropped to the floor, slithering along the floor and out the open door of the reptile house, playfully snapping at the heels of the screaming witnesses, who promptly fled. Harry could understand what the snake was hissing at them as it snaked…er, slithered outside, oddly, in a Brazilian accent.

"Run, you little hot-blooded hunkssss of meat! You think you've ssssseen everything? It's a fifteen-foot sssssnake who'sssss looking for dinner! Oh, bugger me. It's Animal Control. Hey, Mick, what are you doing with that sssshock rod?" Harry heard the crackle of electricity and the snake hissed angrily. Another nasty electric crackle. "That's not ssssupposed to go there…when I ssssaid bugger me, I didn't mean literally…"

The snake trailed off, apparently now unconscious. Harry turned back to Dudley, who was waddling more than he usually did. As he passed Harry with his bony mother and double-wide father on either side of him, struggling to hold him up, Harry caught a foul scent. Apparently, aside from wetting himself, the walking lard ball had crapped his pants, too.

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Vernon hauled Harry into the cupboard, screaming at him through the shutter.

"I don't know what you did, but I'm not letting you out of there until hell freezes over, Boy!" And with that, he slammed the shutter closed, leaving Harry in total darkness.

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Harry sat in total silence and total darkness, thinking. He had been in the cupboard for what he guessed was about two days. Since then, he hadn't been let out to use the loo, to eat, or to walk around. So, he had sat in the darkness and waited, thinking hard about the past…er, future.

_There's a few things I need to do right off, like showing up Snape. Well, it'd make me feel better, but it wouldn't make it any easier to work with him. I guess I'll just have to win his respect. But how? Even with the past…er, future experience I have, Snape is a Potions Master. Not to mention a Master Legilimens. Going to have to work on my Occlumency. Going to need to get my letter…_Harry grinned as a plan began to form. _Now, do I tell anyone about this? No, I can't, for two reasons. First, who would believe me? Second, I can't trust them not to let it slip. Hermione, maybe, but she'd still want to tell ol' Dumbles and that would land me right in the shithouse. Too much, too soon. Got to get Sirius released…Wait, how much is this going to bugger up the time line? Well, the more, the better, I guess. Well, Sirius I know can wait 'till third year. Going to have to find Moony, tell him Sirius isn't a traitor. Those two need each other, especially with the other two Marauders either dead or dead-as-soon-as-I-find-them. The spirit and the brain of the Marauders will be reunited…Merlin, I sound just like bloody Trelawney. Well, at least Moony will know Sirius isn't a traitor. Now, as to the Ron-Ginny-Hermione situation…_

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It was indeed several days before Vernon let Harry out of the cupboard. Of course, he chose to do this at 4:30 AM, and to drag Harry by the hair. Blinking hard, Harry felt like a wino that's just been dragged out from under a park bench after a week-long bender- Groggy, with a strong sensitivity to light, a pounding headache, and an urgent need to visit the john.

After taking care of his pressing need, which, left unchecked, could have lead to a bigger…er, larger…more important problem (which could have been hard…er, difficult, to explain to Vernon why he was sporting a morning wood), Harry cooked the Dursleys breakfast, as he had been forced to do for several years. He cooked enough bacon to tide the whales over for a few hours. Harry managed to get a look at the date and started. Today was the day he would get his first letter. He grinned to himself. _Any time now…_As if on cue, there was the click of the mail slot.

"Get the mail, Dudley," the Great Beetroot Whale said.

"Make Harry get it," from the smaller behemoth.

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it." It was hard not to call him Butterball, especially with the way Dudley resembled a stuffed goose in his school uniform.

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley." Dudley reared back and swung the stick, but Harry ducked it, allowing it to whiz by and swipe the paper clean out of the Mustachioed Turkey's hands. Harry was already up and going for the letterbox. It just wouldn't do for Dudley to find the letter. Fat ponce would probably eat the thing. _Well, guess it's best to get closer to the truth…_Harry began opening the letter, sliding the paper half out from the envelope as he went back into the kitchen.

"Aunt Marge is sick, ate something she shouldn't have," Harry said absentmindedly as he pulled the letter completely from the envelope. "Uncle Vernon, you recognize this seal?" He asked innocently, passing the obese man the envelope. Vernon took one look at the envelope, turned purple, then white, and snatched the letter from Harry's hand. The baby whale had barely noticed. He was so busy shoveling bacon into his mouth that he was oblivious to the world around him. _Merlin, he's like Ron,_ Harry thought. _Only without the eye-searing orange hair. Well, better act appropriately pissed. Even though I am impressed at how fast he changed colors._

"Hey, that's mine!" Harry said, filling his voice with indignation. Vernon scoffed, but Harry could see fear in his eyes.

"Who would write to you? Whoever they are, they must be mad. Petunia?" The anorexic horse plucked the letter from Vernon's hands and the envelope from the table, and tore both pieces of paper up in front of Harry's eyes. Harry put on an appropriate look of shock.

"What was that for? I wanted to read that!" He cried indignantly. Vernon turned puce again, grabbing both Dudley and Harry by the collars and tossing them from the room. Harry allowed the baby orca to beat him to the keyhole. He'd let the rest of this section of timeline pass as it should.

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	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Dursleys and Harry staggered into the shack, sopping wet and freezing. Harry had allowed the same letter events to pass as they had before, feeling it was best to keep things under control for now. Once he got a wand, he'd really start mucking up the timeline. Until then, he would let the Dursleys have their fun.

"Nobody can find us here…nobody…" Vernon muttered to Petunia, who looked deathly scared, both of her husband and of the condition of the shack. Vernon continued muttering to himself as he walked into the loft and flopped onto the bed, which groaned in protest. Dudley ignored both Harry and his parents and waddled to the couch, collapsing onto it.

Harry snagged a blanket and found the same soft patch of floor that he had slept on the first time. Facing the orca, Harry counted off the time until midnight, his excitement growing.

Midnight struck, and the door boomed, Dudley snapping up and falling off the couch with a _thud_ that was almost as loud as Hagrid knocking. Vernon and Petunia came down the stairs, Vernon holding the rifle in his pudgy hands, and Harry got up, walking to the door.

"Don't you open that door, Boy!" Vernon barked. Harry scoffed.

"If whoever it is wanted to hurt us, they would've knocked the door in with the first hit. Think about it. While you're occupied with that for the next hour or so," Harry said, pulling open the door, "won't you come in where it's warm?" Hagrid nodded and stepped inside the house, shaking like a dog and spraying water everywhere. Harry laughed. He had missed Hagrid almost as much as he had Hermione. The half-giant had been his first magical contact. Now dry, Hagrid turned to Harry.

"So yeh'll be Harry, won't yeh?" Harry grinned.

"Yeah, I'll be Harry. Who might you be?" The man began patting down his overcoat.

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys, and Grounds…" He said, fishing a letter out of his coat, "At Hogwarts. We know you didn't receive your letters before, so this should explain everything." Harry read the letter quickly and silently.

"Well, that certainly makes a lot of sense. But how do I go about getting all this equipment? Even in London, it'd be hard to find a place that sells this gear." Hagrid grinned, or at least Harry thought he did. It was hard to tell under the beard.

"Why, at Diagon Alley, o' course. I'm surprised yeh don't know all this already." Hagrid straightened and glared at the Dursleys. "Or have these prunes been keepin yeh in the dark." Petunia gave an "eep" and ran back up the stairs to the loft, and Vernon brandished the rifle.

"Now look here, we did it for his own good! We swore when we took him in we'd have none of that unnaturalness-" Vernon choked off as Hagrid grabbed the rifle by the barrel and bent it until it was pointing between his eyes.

"Unnaturalness? I'll have yeh know tha' Hogwarts is the finest magical school in Britain, possibly in the entire world. And he'll be studyin' under Dumbledore, the finest Headmaster that Hogwarts has ever had!" Vernon managed to snarl and squeak at the same time.

"I will not pay for some old fool to teach him magic! It's unnatural!" Hagrid leveled his umbrella between Vernon's eyes.

"Never insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me." Instead of giving Dudley a tail, as he had the previous time, Hagrid twirled the umbrella and a horn sprouted between Vernon's eyes, making him look like an obese, hairless unicorn. While the now-horny…er, now-horned, man and his son screamed, Hagrid turned to Harry, who was bent double, laughing.

"I think its best tha' we leave, and maybe yeh shouldn' tell Professor Dumbledore I did that. Not supposed ta be doin' magic, strictly speakin'." Harry smiled, put a finger to his lips in the universal "Shhh" symbol. Hagrid nodded, turned, and left with Harry in tow.

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Harry left Diagon Alley feeling more satisfied and happy than he had in months. It was good to be back around magical people. Frankly, being a Muggle for several days had been boring beyond all belief.

Aside from getting back Hedwig and his loyal holly and phoenix-feather wand, Harry had managed to sneak a set of higher-level books past Hagrid, as well as a few other pieces of literature he thought might come in handy later on. _I guess there is no reason my schooling should interfere with my education…did I really just quote Mark Twain? Oh well. Guess I can quote a Yank now and then._ Harry stuffed the textbooks into one of the charmed compartments in the specially built trunk he had bought. It was black, and contained all the regular compartments and pockets his old trunk had featured. However, it also contained a series of small, magically shielded compartments that he could store things he needed kept secret in…like, say, a Horcrux.

After Hagrid left him at King's Cross Station, Harry turned on his heel and ventured back into Diagon Alley, entering Gringotts and exchanging several Galleons for several hundred pounds. He then entered London, heading towards the first mall he saw. He purchased a set of newer clothes, several pairs of glasses, and a pair of sunglasses. He also scored a prepaid mobile phone- useless at Hogwarts, but it could prove very useful during the summers ahead. In addition, to Harry's great relief, he managed to acquire a set of contact lenses, rendering his glasses unnecessary part of the time. _At the least, I'll be able to go through the more dangerous situations without worrying about breaking my glasses. One less thing to worry about. Now I only have to deal with evil wizards, giant spiders and basilisks, werewolves, and evil teachers. Sounds like a rich secondary school experience._

Harry glanced around. Nobody was giving him a second glance, even though he was carrying a snowy-white owl in a cage and a trunk full of odd items behind him. _Only in London, can you walk around with an owl and not get a second glance._ He hailed a streetcar and handed the driver several pounds.

"Number Four, Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey, please," he said. The cabbie quirked an eyebrow at him, pulling a fag from behind one ear and lighting it.

"You're going to need a bit more than this for a ride to Surrey, kid." Harry tossed a wad of pound notes on the front seat and the cabbie's eyes bugged out. He jammed his foot on the gas and Harry was thrown back in the seat.

An hour later, the thoroughly richer cabbie dropped off a winded and exhilarated Harry with his purchases in front of Number 4, Privet Drive. The Dursley Residence. Or, as Harry preferred to call it, Hell on Earth.

Harry walked in the front door to find Vernon lying on the couch, several bandages covering his forehead where the horn had been removed. Dudley was crammed into an armchair, looking at Harry with an expression of pure, unadulterated, absolute terror on his face. Harry snorted and went upstairs, dragging his trunk behind him.

The next two weeks were, without a doubt, some of the most interesting times in his life. In between terrifying the Dursleys and studying ahead, Harry wrote to Gringotts, asking for bank statements and wills from his parents. The goblins responded by portkeying him directly to Gringotts via an enchanted letter and handing him a twelve-page bank statement that was surprisingly easy to read.

Harry flipped through the statement, seeing eight- and nine-figure sums along with several lists of properties and possessions. It was all very professionally laid out and yet still was written in English, rather than couched in bureaucratese.

When Harry asked the goblin why it was such easy reading, the goblin replied, "Wizards never ask for bank statements, so we don't bother making it complicated. Why make things more difficult for ourselves?"

Harry flipped through the statement, looking for anything he could use. Nothing really jumped out at him, aside from the ring of House Potter and a few items marked under the "Special Items" category.

Harry grasped the Portkey that would send him back to Durzkaban and felt the familiar vomit-inducing yank behind the navel that signified Portkey travel. He landed, as always, in a heap on the floor, the items he had brought home clattering away. Harry scrambled to his feet and began gathering the items up. Due to the size of the articles, it took some hunting under the bed, but within ten minutes, he found them all.

Harry quickly sorted through what he had brought back- a Pensieve, several memory strands contained in vials, the Potter signet ring, and a thick book that had belonged to his mother and father. Two of the memory strands, the containing vials of which were bound together in a small case labeled "For Harry", were opened first. One of the vials was labeled "From Mom" and the other "From Dad".

Harry dropped the one from his mother in first, and was about to plunge face-first into the memory when he remembered the instruction manual that had come with the Pensieve. Consulting it briefly, Harry tapped several runes on the edge of the bowl and a life-size image of his mother rose from the Pensieve.

"Harry, if you're watching this, then the worst has happened. We've passed on, leaving you. However, you are not entirely alone. Sirius Black, your godfather, should be there with you. So should Remus Lupin, unless it is near the full moon. Yes, son, he is a werewolf, and a damn good one at that, so long as he takes his Wolfsbane. If not, well, hide. Remus is a bit grumpy if he doesn't take his meds. Peter Pettigrew might be there as well." She looked around, speaking quietly. "Son, you might want to watch out for Peter. I'm not sure but I think he might have something going on with Voldemort." Her voice returned to normal levels.

"Either way, we've left you enough so you'll never have to work a day in your life. If we took Lord Mouldyshorts with us, celebrate. If Voldemort is still around, go into hiding. I know you might want to stand and fight but please, stay out of the line of fire." She blew him a kiss. "I love you, Harry. Goodbye." Harry fought back tears and started his father's message. As his mother did, his father rose from the Pensieve and began speaking.

"Hey son. If you're watching this, than all the protections we had going for us just weren't enough. We're dead, plain and simple. Frankly, I have the feeling your mother places just a little too much confidence in Dumbledore. He seems to be a bit blinded by his concept of the "Greater Good". Anyway, I hope you're in good health, because we certainly aren't. Goodbye, son. Good luck in the times ahead, and don't forget that we'll always be with you."

Harry could feel tears running down his face and wiped them away, fighting back the pain. He flipped open the book, leafing through the pages and smiling at what he saw. His mother had written down detailed plans on how to cast certain highly advanced spells, as well as tips for Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. His father, on the other hand, had left detailed Quidditch plays and prank suggestions for him. Harry could see where their visions of him diverged- apparently, his father could see what his mother had written, but not the other way around.

He flipped the book closed and slid into bed, holding the book tightly to his chest. From what the goblins had said, there was another book that his father and Sirius had written, but according to his parent's will, he was not to see that book until he was at least fifteen. Harry had a sneaking suspicion about the contents of that book.

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September first finally came, and Harry was only too glad to leave. He had called another cab, and tossed a roll of pound notes onto the front seat. The cabbie picked up the wad of notes and stared at him.

"There's a hundred and fifty pounds in there. All yours if you can get me to King's Cross Station in London in less than an hour, without getting us pulled over." The cabbie gave him a grin and hit the gas, throwing Harry back in the seat.

Twenty-two minutes later, the car screeched to a stop outside King's Cross Station and Harry lurched out of the backseat, fighting the urge to projectile vomit all over the curb. The cabbie got out and unloaded his trunk. Harry steadied himself and spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Well, you better be going. I think the cops might take a while to figure out where you went after you took that shortcut through Stonehenge, but that won't last forever." The cabbie nodded.

"Well, it might have taken them a bit longer to figure it out if you hadn't been screaming the whole way." The cabbie stopped and gave him a long look. "Look kid, I know who you are. My name's William Matthews, but my friends call me Billy." He held out a small card. "You ever need my help, just ask." As the cabbie drove away, Harry palmed the card and examined it. On one side was a Muggle phone number, but on the reverse side was a note- "Just stick your thumb out. I'll be there." Harry slid the card into his back pocket and walked into King's Cross Station, still swaying slightly.

Bit sappy partway through, but frankly I doubt Harry's parents didn't leave him something like this. Read & Review please. If you're going to flame me, use private messages.

Up next- the train ride and the beginning of first year.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Getting as many reviews as I did for last chapter was…interesting. My inbox damn near exploded from all the story alert, author alert, favorite story alert, and review notifications. Okay, to clear up a few things- if I make a geographic mistake, it's probably deliberate. Due to the Muggle magic that is Google Maps, I can check if something belongs where I put it. So bear with me on the mistakes, it's probably comedic license that I'm exercising. As for Harry…well, read the chapter.

Also being introduced in this chapter are a new character and movie quotes. Find the quote and who said it and get mentioned in the next chapter. First come, first served.

Chapter 3

Harry settled into the same compartment he had the first time he had ridden the train, counting off the seconds on the watch he had retrieved from his vault. Less than twenty seconds after he had settled into seat, Ron slid open the door. _God, does Dumbles have me lowjacked or something? I expected him to take at least a minute…well, better play along. For now._ He snapped back to reality and pretended to listen as Ron rambled on about his mother and corned beef. Eventually, he wound down.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" He asked, bluntly. Harry nodded and brushed his hair out of the way, staring out the window. "Wicked." Harry grunted.

"Frankly, I don't think so. I grew up without knowing anything of my past. All thanks to one guy with some real mental problems." He glanced away from the window, locking eyes with Ron. "Some people think I like the fame and fortune. Well, I was raised as a Muggle. Didn't know the fame until a couple weeks ago. Didn't have much money, either. Either way, I'd trade it for my parents back." Ron stared at him blankly, obviously not able to process the concept of trading money and fame for family.

Harry watched as the gears ground in Ron's head and the temperature slowly rose. To stave off the inevitable meltdown, Harry quickly conceived a brilliant solution. "Hey, I heard something about a game called Quidditch that involved broomsticks. So, I bought one. A Nimbus….Two Thousand, I think. Wanna go look at it?" Ron nodded like a puppy. "Well, I'm not sure if we're allowed in the luggage compartments, but I'll show you when we get to the school, okay? In the meantime, what exactly IS Quidditch?" Ron launched into a two-hour explanation of the game as Harry resumed staring out the window.

As Ron finally wound down from his speech about the intricacies of passing a Quaffle, Harry checked his watch, noticing it was almost time for Hermione to make her entrance into his life. He swallowed the bit of licorice wand he had been chewing and ran his hands through his hair, oddly nervous.

"Something wrong, mate?" Ron asked through a mouth full of chocolate. Harry shook his head.

"No, its just I-" he broke off as Hermione slid open the door, already in her Hogwarts robes. His heart soared at seeing her alive again.

"Have either of you seen a toad?"

Harry spoke before he could stop himself. "No, but feel free to sit down in here and wait for him. I've been sorta fuzzed out and Ron doesn't pay attention to anything anyway, so he could possibly be in here." Hermione shrugged and sat down.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" Harry nodded.

"Been in the wizarding world before?"

"No, it's my first time, so I hope they'll be gentle." Hermione giggled.

"You nervous?" Harry snapped his fingers.

"Damn, and I thought I was hiding that so well." Hermione giggled again, and Ron raised an eyebrow. Harry ignored him, smiling at Hermione. "So, you learned any spells yet?" Hermione nodded, and leveled her wand between his eyes. Harry's eyes crossed staring at the point of the wand aimed at his head. "_Oculus Reparo_," she intoned, and his beat-up glasses moved back into perfect condition.

"How about you?" Hermione asked Ron, and Harry had to suppress a wince as Ron repeated his useless "Sunshine Daisies, butter mellow," spell. Hermione turned to Harry.

"Well, that went well. You know any spells?"

"What's the toad's name again?"

"His name is Trevor. Why?" Harry nodded, and flicked his wand.

"_Accio_ Trevor!" For a moment, there was silence, and then a small toad came whizzing through the door of the compartment and landed perfectly in Harry's hand. He plunked the terrified amphibian in Hermione's hand and received a dazzling-if-slightly-bucktoothed smile in return.

"Great! I'll go give this back to Neville!" Harry held up a hand.

"_Accio_ Neville!" Again, a moment of silence, and then a terrified Neville Longbottom came soaring into the compartment, landing on Ron. After a moment of comedic struggling, Neville stood up, and Hermione handed him the toad.

"Here you go, Neville. Harry over here found him for you." Neville looked over at Harry, spotted the scar, and gave a very quiet 'eep'. Harry gave him a warm smile, banishing the image of Neville dying in his arms.

"If you wanna stick with us, it's okay by me. You look like you could use somebody who knows a good Summoning Charm." Neville nodded bashfully.

"Don't worry; it's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm not very powerful either, but who knows? Past is history, future's a mystery. It's all about what you do in the moment." _Not really, but I won't get that extra power for a while, so it can't hurt._ Harry glanced outside at the now-setting sun and then looked over his three compartment-mates. "Well, anybody know when we're getting to the school?" Neville and Ron shook their heads, but Hermione piped up.

"I asked around. We get there after dark, and we're supposed to be in our robes at that point." Harry nodded, Neville looked relieved, and Ron gave Hermione an ugly look.

"Well then. Might as well change and get that over with, right?" After they changed, there were a few moments of silence.

"So…" Harry said, leaving an open invitation to a conversation starter. There were no takers. "Anybody know how we're going to be sorted into the houses? Or am I going to have to start examining my navel again?" Everyone laughed and Hermione spoke.

"I heard something about a hat."

"A hat."

"Yes, a hat."

"Must be some hat to decide how our school careers start. But then, it IS magic, so I guess I could understand that…" _Please Ron, don't start talking about how the Twins said you have to wrestle a troll…_

Ron broke in. "My brother said something about wrestling a troll, actually." _No such luck._ Hermione raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing.

After a few more hours of semi-pleasant conversation, during which Ron put his foot in his mouth no less than three times, they finally arrived at the castle. After the quick trip across the lake, where Harry managed to avoid booting Ron into the water, they were led into the castle. Harry's heart soared at seeing McGonagall alive and well again. Then again, his heart had been doing a _lot_ of soaring lately.

After McGonagall left, Harry counted to three. On cue- "So it's true. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." Harry turned, feeling the eyes on him once again.

"Who're you?" Malfoy gave him the same superior look he had come to expect from him.

"My name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. You'll find that some magical families," he said, giving Ron a sneer, "are better than others. I can help you find those families." Harry gave him a quiet smile.

"You already have. I am looking at a prime example of a family that should have died out two generations ago. A perfect example of the bigotry and out-of-date thinking that goes on in the Wizarding world every day. So, if the inbreeding has affected your creative functions, I can suggest a few places you can shove your 'help'. Piss off, Malfoy." Harry turned around and heard a quiet clap from the back.

"How dare you! You'll pay for that, Potter! Goyle!" Harry heard a rustle and ducked, letting Goyle's fist soar harmlessly past him as he drove his own fist into Goyle's stomach just below his breastbone. The bookend collapsed, gasping for breath.

"One down. You going to send the other butt boy after me? There's a patch of floor waiting for him. Or maybe you'd like to try it yourself." Malfoy's face drained of color and he backed down, just as McGonagall came back in. She glanced at Goyle lying on the floor coughing and Malfoy's whiter-than-usual face and remained silent for a moment. Harry could swear he saw the corners of her mouth twitch upwards momentarily.

"Follow me." They were led into the Great Hall and the Sorting Hat was placed in front of them. As they went down the line, Harry grew impatient and began surveying the hall, spotting a new face at the Gryffindor table. He was a wiry boy, thin-faced and well tanned. He also had piercing blue eyes. As he waited, Harry felt no more than three mental contacts on his Occlumency shields- two from Snape and one from Dumbledore. Mere probes for now. The serious attacks would come later. Harry had simply let their probes roll off his shields.

Then, surprisingly, there was a polite knock on his shields, from a completely different direction. Harry could sense a presence waiting outside the shields, not attacking, but simply waiting, knocking politely from time to time. Harry opened a hole his shields momentarily and let their minds connect. To his surprise, the mind spoke with an American accent.

"_My name's David Mitchell. You're Harry, aren't you._"

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Oooh, now I know why leaving things hanging at the end of a chapter is so fun! R&R.

-Lightning


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All characters so far except for David Mitchell are the property of J.K. Rowling. Since I'm obviously not her, no need to try to get a lawyer on my case…especially since so many have tried already.

A/N: I've been looking at other stories and just noticed something. I'm missing a disclaimer. So, although one's up on my profile, here's another one, to be published every chapter. In the following chapters, the story will be a little more focused. Although he is willing to work with them, Harry is not going to bend over and take it from Dumbles, or Snape. Or anyone else, for that matter…

Note that this chapter is almost two and a half times as long as the previous chapters. This is part of the reason that it took this long to post it. Another part is the upload section hasn't been working for me. Yet another is that my school started recently and I'm drowning in homework.

This Chapter: Harry, Hermione, and David are introduced and Harry plots the end of one of Hogwarts' greasiest.

Chapter 4

Harry turned slowly, eyeing the new kid.

"_Yes. My name's Harry Potter._" The kid nodded.

"_Have you ever been in the Wizarding world before?_" Harry shook his head. "_No? Well, if you need someone to look out for you, I'm here. No strings, nothing expected from you except maybe somebody who won't be a jackass._" Harry sent the mental equivalent of a snort.

"_Well, you don't have to worry about that from me._" David nodded.

"_We'll talk more later. Now, I think you're about to be sorted._" Harry turned around just as the person in front of him took off the hat and practically ran for the Hufflepuff table. He stepped forward, ignoring the whispering, and perched the hat on his head.

"_What have we here…a time traveler, eh? Well, and an Heir of the Potters to boot. We must have a talk later, Milord. In the meantime, you would probably do best in Gryffindor again._"

"_Really? I was thinking Ravenclaw. What should I call you?_"

"_My full name is Admetes Castor Echion Tiphys, but those close to me know me as Ben._"

"_Ben? Why Ben?_"

"_If you had been Merlin's hat, you would have the right to be called something totally different from your name too_."

"_You were Merlin's hat? I thought you were Gryffindor's!_"

"_Who do you think gave him the bloody hat, kid?_"

"_Well, that does make sense._"

"_After all, Merlin did give Gryffindor the sword too..._"

"_You're kidding._"

"_Like I said, we have to have a long talk about this. In the meantime,…should I talk for the benefit of the fuzzy guy up in the chair? He wants you in Gryffindor. Something about keeping you from turning dark._" Harry shrugged.

"_Go ahead_."

"Well, Mister Potter, we have courage in spades…great loyalty…intelligence…and a good deal of ambition. Where to put you…You could be in any house. But I think you'd do best in…GRYFFINDOR!" There were cheers as the hat sent one final message to him. "_Keep an eye behind you, Mister Potter. As a former student here used to say, "Constant Vigilance!" But make sure you don't let Dumbledore influence your path too much._" Harry nodded, set the hat down, and ran for the spot next to Hermione.

"Did you mean what you said about Malfoy?" She asked quietly. Harry nodded.

"In the short time I've been in contact with the Wizarding world, I've seen bigotry and a focus on blood purity that hasn't been in the Muggle world for hundreds of years. I'm hoping to avoid that if necessary, and maybe lessen it for everyone else a bit." She smiled. "By the way, I have a book for you to read." Her eyes lit up.

"If I may interrupt?" Harry turned and found David looking at him from across the table. The wiry boy extended his hand. Harry looked at but did not take it. "Don't worry, kid. I'm not Malfoy. In fact, that little prick is going to be hearing from me." Hermione cocked her head at him.

"You're an American."

"And you're a Brit. Not bad for a chick. Either way," he said, turning back to Harry after winking at Hermione, causing her to blush, "There are no strings attached here. Like I said earlier. I'm just looking for a friend. I'm new here and I figure somebody who hasn't been here too long is a good place to start. I'm a third year and you two are firsties, but I can live with that. Can you?" Hermione looked taken aback at his blunt attitude, but Harry was impressed.

"No bull, no flowery phrases. I can respect that. You got it." He took David's hand, shook it warmly.

"Good. I know about you, but this lovely image here is a mystery to me." He winked at Hermione again.

"My name's Hermione Granger. I'm a first generation witch, only child of two dentists, like Indian food and a good movie." David grinned.

"David Mitchell. American, California to be exact. Second child of a Colombian witch and an American Muggle who was aware of the magical world. I was raised in both worlds, so I know about the ins and outs of magical society. Thankfully, I also managed to learn plenty from the Muggle world too. I'm a fan of good Mexican and I like long walks on the beach. There are also a few tricks I've learned due to bouncing between worlds that I think I could pass onto you two." He gave Harry a cheeky grin. "Like getting Muggle electronics to work in Hogwarts." Hermione gasped.

"That's not possible! It says so in _Hogwarts, A History_!" David snorted

"Lemme ask you something. When was it written?"

"A long time ago-"

"Exactly. Something new could have been invented by now. And has," He deadpanned.

The next day, schedules were passed out and as the twosome went to Potions, Harry began formulating a plan. A plan, for the destruction of one of Hogwarts's…well, Snape wasn't anything near Hogwarts's finest, but you get the point.

Harry and Hermione had entered the Dungeon, and sat in the front row, both eager to learn Potions. Well, Hermione was. Harry was busy plotting the demise of Snape's sanity. Or at least his post as Potions teacher.

The door slammed open, and Snape tore through the room, his cape flapping behind him.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. However... for those with the attention span, I can teach you how to ensnare the senses and bewitch the mind. I can teach you how to brew glory, bottle fame, and even put a stopper in death."

Hermione glanced down to see that Harry had already written Snape's entire speech down, word for word. Apparently without even moving.

Snape sneered at Harry. "Mr. Potter. Our new... celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Without missing a beat, Harry responded. "Depending on the how much you used, a stink bomb possibly bad enough to render this classroom unsuitable for human life. However, if you were to add something to prevent said reaction, you would have a basic form of the Draught of Living Death."

Snape sneered. "Where would you look if I asked you to find me a Bezoar?"

Harry looked disturbed, and asked, "I hope you would have some on hand, Professor, but if you didn't, my next stop would be a goat's stomach. It's an antidote to most poisons, which is why I hope you would have some handy."

Snape actually snarled his next question at Harry. "And what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

Harry shrugged slightly. "The name. It's the same substance, really. Just depends on who you ask. You done with the higher-level questions?" Snape was practically foaming at the mouth as he sputtered, "The instructions are on the board for today's lesson. You have one hour," and swept out of the room. Harry looked at the path he had taken.

"Man needs a good bath," he muttered, and began tossing components into his cauldron. Hermione gave him a long look, obviously trying to avoid laughing.

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Harry was strolling back to the Gryffindor common room with Hermione and Neville when all of a sudden, they were thrown arse over teakettle into an empty classroom by a wave of magic. The door slammed shut behind them, and Harry could sense magical barriers going up over it. He spun, drawing his wand as he did and casting a strong Shield Charm around the three of them. He saw David standing there, in a dueling pose.

Harry fell into combat mode, shooting a stream of hexes and jinxes at David- jelly-legs, leg-lockers, disarming spells and stunners, among others. David batted half of them aside and ducked the rest, but it gave Harry time to get in closer. David cast a wide-effect Trip Jinx and Harry practically flipped over as the spell took effect. Pushing himself back to his feet, Harry found the end of David's wand pointed between his eyes.

He gently prodded Harry in the forehead with his wand. "Dead. Not bad, for a first-year with no real dueling training."

Harry grinned, panting from the exertion of casting all those spells in close succession. "Is that all you know?"

David shook his head. "Not hardly. I'm good with Muggle weapons too." Harry's smile grew. He could use this. "Anyway. Since you obviously can't handle yourself well enough to get past me, I'm thinking we train. Every Saturday morning that you're free. Hand-to-hand, physical conditioning, dueling, advanced spell work, stuff like that." He looked over at Hermione, who had just gotten to her feet. "Oh. You're invited too. Especially if it's your time of the month. Hell hath no fury like a woman on her period, after all."

She rolled her eyes. "Gee. Thanks."

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Harry walked into his first Transfiguration class with Hermione close behind him. As Ron trailed in after them, looking like he had been hit with a Confundus Charm (the food stains on his front and the dazed look in his eyes certainly didn't help), Harry wracked his brains for what the first lesson had been.

After McGonagall went through her Animagus transformation and changed her desk back from its pig form, they were each handed a matchstick. _Oh yeah, the matchstick puzzle…_He subtly tapped his wand lightly on the table, making Ron's matchstick violently flare as he reached for it. The redhead yelped and jumped back.

"Gee, Ron, it won't bite you." Harry said, chuckling. Hermione gave him an obviously forced disapproving look. "Yes?" Harry asked, putting on the puppy-dog eyes and the innocent look. Hermione stared at him for a moment, maintaining the disapproving look, and then broke down, giggling. Harry concentrated, tapped his matchstick with his wand, and glanced down to find he had a perfect needle. Hermione's jaw dropped.

"How did you do that?" She held up her own matchstick, which had only gone slightly pointy at the end. He scooted his chair closer to her and quietly explained what his parent's book had taught him.

"Some people think that by putting a lot of power or fancy wand movements into a Transfiguration spell, the spell will have a better chance of success. They're partially right. With more power, the spell lasts longer. That's how they do permanent Transfiguration. With the wand movements, it is more of a way to guide the magic. The trick to Transfiguration, so to speak, is in the visualization. Just concentrate on what you want it to be, focus your magic, and cast the spell." Hermione nodded, closed her eyes, tapped the matchstick, and opened her eyes to find a perfect needle. She gave a 'squee' and Harry chuckled. He heard a throat cleared behind them and turned to find Professor McGonagall standing behind them, looking mildly amused.

"That'll be five points each to Gryffindor for a perfect Transfiguration. And another five points to Mr. Potter for an excellent explanation of Transfiguration." Her mouth twitched and she walked away. Harry turned back to Hermione.

"Was that a smile I saw on her face?" Hermione nodded.

"I believe it was." Harry gave her an impish grin.

"Must be cause of my devilish good looks." Hermione smacked him in the arm and he grabbed both needles, sitting them side by side. He began to focus again and waved his wand slowly. The needles began to grow in length and thickness until they were almost three feet long. He then altered the flow of magic and the needles changed form slightly.

"Mr. Potter? What exactly are you doing?" Harry held up the pair of giant matched knitting needles.

"Hagrid knits. I figured I'd give him an early Christmas present." McGonagall's mouth twitched again as Harry grinned.

"That's another five points to Gryffindor, for initiative with the lesson." Hermione did a happy dance in the seat next to him. _What's next…ah, Charms._

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As Flitwick started the class on their assignment for the day, a successful Hover Charm, he sat down at his desk and began to watch Harry intently. Harry nudged Hermione with his elbow.

"I think McGonagall called ahead. Flitwick is watching us."

Without missing a beat, Hermione said, "Oh dear. Afraid you won't be able to perform?" Harry stared at her for a moment and then broke out laughing.

"Hermione Granger! I do hope you know I'm not that sort of a boy!" He lowered his voice. "I always…_rise to the occasion_, if you get my point." She sniggered.

"Well, anyway…_Wingardium Leviosa_!" The feather floated into the air. She looked at Harry quizzically. "Where's your feather?" He pointed upwards, and she saw that his feather had been hovering three feet above their heads for about a minute. "Ah."

"Yeah." He turned to the front of the room, where Flitwick was nodding slowly.

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Harry strolled out to flying practice, having completed every other lesson of the day. He made sure he ended up with Hermione on one side of him and Neville on the other.

When Madame Hooch gave the go-ahead, he commanded in a firm tone, "Up!" The broom flew instantly into his hand. On one side, Neville's broom hadn't budged, and on the other, Hermione's was simply rolling around.

"Hermione, Neville-Treat it like a puppy. Give it a firm tone, but be gentle. Don't shout at it, or it'll fight you." As one, they said "Up!" in the way Harry suggested and their brooms bolted into their hands. Hermione cocked her head.

"Down." The broom settled onto the ground. "Roll over!" The broom spun, righting itself and waggling its end slightly. "My god, I think it IS a puppy…" Harry and Neville chuckled.

As they mounted their brooms, Harry kept careful watch on Neville and Hermione. He had the same gut feeling he had gotten every time something bad had happened in the previous time line.

"Now, rise slowly, hover for a bit, and then drop back down." They took off, Hermione's rising sharply.

"Hermione? You okay?" She nodded, and then squealed as the broom bucked slightly.

"I think it really wants to play! Bad doggy! Stay! HARRY!" She screamed as the broom took off, whizzing out towards the lake. Harry leaned forward and shot after her. His broom was older and slower; however, with the magic boost he gave it, he was slowly catching up to Hermione. The broom was gaining altitude as it shot out towards the lake, and turned into a spiral, allowing Harry to catch up.

"Hermione!" He shouted. "I'm going to get next to you and you grab onto my broom, okay?" As he finished his sentence, the broom rolled and bucked again, throwing Hermione clean off. He dropped after her, hurtling towards the surface of the lake. At these speeds, the water would be like concrete. Harry flattened himself against the broom, coaxing it to its maximum speed.

His fingers brushed her collar…Harry grabbed a firm hold and yanked upwards, hitting the brakes and pulling up, pointing the broom into the air and accelerating again. The broom skidded through the air above the surface of the lake, trying to overcome its downward momentum as Harry hauled Hermione onto his broom and wrapped an arm around her waist. They shot up, both winded and in need of fresh underwear, but unharmed.

"You all right?"

"Let's not do that again."

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Later that day, the teachers who presided over the core subjects met with Dumbledore in the teacher's lounge. Dumbledore popped a lemon drop in his mouth and leaned back in his chair. "So, how is he adjusting?"

McGonagall spoke up first. "We did the matchstick to needle today. He did it in less than ten seconds. No wand movements. No incantation. He just…did it. Then he taught another student, who also shows great promise, how to do it, and she replicated his feat. Then he enlarged their needles. Hagrid's using them as knitting needles now." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. At the age of eleven, that would have been impossible for him. He turned to Flitwick.

"How was he in your class, Filius?" The diminutive man grinned.

"He was a lot like his mother. Got it in one." Dumbledore nodded.

"Severus?"

"He answered every question I gave him, but he was just as arrogant as his father in doing it." Sprout broke in.

"Read: He did well." There was a smattering of laughter. Hooch walked in, fresh from the flying class.

"Albus, there's something you should know about this Potter kid." Dumbledore turned to her.

"Yes?"

"He flies like his father. In fact, he flies BETTER than his father did." McGonagall's face lit up.

"Really. Albus?" Dumbledore chuckled.

"Yes. Seeing how well he's doing in his other classes, I think we can let him go into Quidditch. On one condition. We check again at the end of this week. If he hasn't just had a rather perfect first day, he's in."

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Harry was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He sighed, knowing that between Ron's snoring and his own restlessness, he'd never get to sleep. A quick _Silencio_ took care of Ron, but his mind was still racing. Eventually, he grabbed his wand, his glasses, and pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbing his sneakers on the way out of the dormitory.

As he reached the Common Room, Harry reached out with his mind, using a trick he had learned not long before his semi-abortive jump back through time. He began to draw in ambient magic from the air, using it to power a Disillusionment Charm. Harry didn't want to leave a trace on his wand, and his power reserves had not come back yet enough to cast one wandlessly. He felt the charm take effect and left the Common Room, sticking to the shadows. He moved silently, taking the stairs to the fifth floor.

He strolled by the statue of Barnabas the Barmy three times, thinking "_I need a place to think. I need a place to think. I need a place to think._" The third time he passed, he heard a "chunk" and looked over to find an oak door set into the wall. He stepped through, finding himself in a comfortable sitting room. As in, he literally found himself. Three copies of him, to be precise.

"Hello there, Harry. So, you've arrived back at Hogwarts, been sorted into Gryffindor, and been mucking up the timeline within reason, as you originally planned," the first copy, dressed in red robes, said. Harry nodded. The copy to his left, dressed in blue, spoke next. "And yet, you find yourself…troubled, do you not?" Harry nodded wordlessly again.

"Harry you have to talk too or this doesn't work," The Harry in green robes said gently.

"Yes, I am troubled. I'm not sure how much I can screw things up before we totally depart from the time-line. I want to get Sirius out of Azkaban now, but I can't send Wormtail on the run this soon. Wouldn't do to bring back Voldemort in the middle of my third year. I'm already going to be dealing with an angry werewolf. Aside from that, I need to get back the Marauder's Map, among other things."

Blue-Harry put a hand on his shoulder. "Make a list. Divide what you can and can't do each year. You can do whatever you need to do, so long as you do it right." Harry nodded.

"Thanks. But what do I do about Sirius?" Red-Harry spoke.

"He can survive. He did before, after all. Maybe send him care packages now and again, and a warning about the paper. But he must remain at Azkaban for now." Harry nodded, feeling marginally better about leaving Sirius in prison for now.

"Thanks, guys. I needed that. Now, the only question is- what do I do about the Sorcerer's Stone? The troll on Halloween I can handle." Green-Harry spoke again.

"Perhaps it may be best to let events take their original course in this case."

"You mean, take Won-Won in with me?" Blue-Harry winced.

"No. In fact, hell no. But don't expose Quirrel. The loss of life that could result from that is astounding. Take Hermione and David with you." Harry's head perked up.

"Yeah, and that's another thing. David. Can I trust him?" Blue-Harry shrugged.

"He seems to be alright. However, it IS slightly suspicious that a thirteen-year-old kid knows Legillimency to the point where he can politely knock on someone's shields and hold a polite conversation with them, without eye contact, and without casting the spell at all, let alone verbally." Red-Harry piped up.

"Plus, he's apparently an expert duelist. "He wasn't here the first time around, so we are in the dark with him. So, trust him, but not too far."

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Harry flopped down in his favorite armchair in the Gryffindor common room, tired after a long week. It had been almost pathetic, watching Snape try to beat him in a contest of wits when Harry knew all the answers in advance. He had felt several probes from Snape ricochet off his shields, getting stronger with every attack. Harry had carefully recorded the probes, recognizing perfect blackmail evidence when he saw it.

Hermione fell into the chair next to him, Neville and David taking seats as well. The portrait opened and Ron stomped into the room, looking pissed at being alone. Harry pointedly ignored him and closed his eyes as mentally reviewed the week. He had been careful not to over-perform, not wanting to arouse any more suspicion than was absolutely necessary among the teachers.

As Harry settled deeper into the chair, intent on a quick nap before dinner, he heard the portrait open again and felt his 'teacher sense' (as he called it) give him a mental nudge. He cracked an eye open and saw Professor McGonagall making a beeline for him. _Ah bugger, she probably heard about that stunt over the lake and wants me to join the Quidditch team_…_well, better play it cool._

"Mister Potter. May I have a word?" Harry opened his eyes and pushed himself out of the chair, stretching.

"Sure, Professor. What'cha wanna talk about?"

"I've been talking to Madame Hooch, and I-"

Harry cut her off. "Look, about that, I reacted on instinct. Hermione was in trouble and I was the only one that stood a chance of getting there in time." McGonagall's mouth twitched again. _Man, would it break her face to smile, or does she just not want to show favoritism?_

"Yes, Mister Potter, I did want to talk to you about that. Fifty points to Gryffindor for that." She paused a moment and Harry cocked his head.

"Was there something else, Professor?"

"Mister Potter, have you ever thought about joining the Quidditch team?"

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See if you can find the movie quote in this chapter. Read and Review. I've given you two now, and I'll wait till somebody finds the quotes in the previous ones. They're not hard.

-Lightning


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All characters so far except for David Mitchell are the property of J.K. Rowling. I'm not her. Therefore, no cash is being made.

A/N: I've been hoping that people will make a little bit of effort to find the quotes, but so far we've had a total of one person make a definite effort. One person. So, Unknown-nin345 is our honorable mention for the past two chapters. For you lazy ones who didn't try, I got so sick of waiting that I finally gave up. There are still quotes, but they'll be a little easier to find.

The past two quotes were "Past is history, future's a mystery. It's all about what you do in the moment," from the movie 21. The other was ""You all right? Let's not do that again." From The Dark Knight. The one in this chapter should be easy to find…just think of pillow fights between the spawn of Satan.

This is part of the reason that it took this long to post it. Another part is I'm drowning in homework and state testing.

This Chapter: Halloween, the first Quidditch game, the aftermath, and the beginning of holidays.

* * *

Chapter 5

Harry pulled his head out from under the pillow, stretching like a cat and rolling his neck. Feeling a pressing need, he visited the bathroom, and then pulled on his jeans, trainers and robes and slid his wand into his sleeve. He made it all the way into the Common Room before he figured out what day it was.

"Oh bugger…Halloween…" He replayed the scene from the first run through in his mind. The drink that John had given him had not only created his Occlumency shields and seemingly boosted his power level; it had also given him almost perfect recall. Hermione came trotting down the stairs and noticed the near-ashen look on his face.

"Harry, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, its just…" _No, everything is NOT fine. You almost are killed today. My parents died today. Thankfully, this time I can stop it._ "Today was the day my parents died." Hermione's face fell.

"Harry, I'm so sorry, I didn't know…" He shook his head firmly.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it." She nodded and gave him a half smile. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she reached out and pushed up the corners of his mouth with two fingers, giving him an exaggerated smile.

"C'mon, little smile?" Harry broke out into a grin, unable to resist her.

"Okay, okay. Where's Neville and David?" Hermione pointed out the window. Harry looked out the window, seeing the Quidditch Pitch. And two small figures running laps across the center of the pitch.

"David's idea. He does it every day, but Neville joined him today."

"Interesting. Maybe I'll join him tomorrow. Anyway, what's on the agenda for today?"

"Not much. We've got Charms again, and double Potions. My bet is Flitwick will try and get the rest of the class to do a proper Hover Charm. As for Potions…I'd put my money on Snape trying to embarrass you." Harry mulled that over a moment.

"Bring it on."

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Harry strolled out of Potions, whistling. For the umpteenth time, he had turned Snape from a greasy, sneering herring to a greasy, spluttering herring in less than two minutes. Hermione walked out of the crowd behind him and caught up to him.

"Do you really think it was necessary to suggest to Snape that he take some of your Laxative Potion?" Harry put on an expression of deep thought, and then nodded.

"Yup. Absolutely essential. Hilarious, too. Ah, now what…Charms, right?"

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Harry sat back and relaxed, watching (from a safe distance) Seamus detonate his feather for the fourth time, singing off what was left of his right eyebrow. Meanwhile, Ron was swinging his wand around like a fire hose and mumbling incantations. Hermione caught his wrist on a backswing worthy of a Wimbledon championship match, and taught him the proper incantation.

After which she promptly burst out giggling when Harry used one of the few feathers that Seamus hadn't blown up to tickle her ears.

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"Honestly, that girl!" Ron said. "She's a nightmare! 'It's _Lev-i-osar_'! No wonder she hasn't got any friends!" Harry saw Hermione dash off, her face in her hands.

"Here we go again," he muttered. He trotted after her, catching up to her just outside the girl's bathroom.

"Hermione, wait."

"I'm okay, just go to the feast. I'll catch up later." She went inside the bathroom before he could say another word, and he followed her, sitting outside the stall she hid in.

"Hermione, I'm not leaving until you come out of there."

"He's right Harry, I don't have any friends."

"…Well what am I, chopped jalapeños?"

"Aside from you."

"What, am I not good enough?"

"No! It's not that! Its just…you're my only friend, Harry."

"I'm sure Neville and David would object to that." He heard a quiet giggle from the stall, and the door opened.

"Thanks, Harry." She wrapped him in a tight hug. "Go on down to the feast. Save me a spot. I'll be there in a little while."

"Okay, Hermione." _I know full well what happens now…I wish it hadn't come to this._

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Harry had just sat down at the table when Quirrel burst into the room, screamed his message about the troll, and fainted.

After the initial pandemonium and Dumbledore's bellowed orders, the students began to leave the hall in a semi-orderly fashion (read: they were running as if their lives depended on it). Neville, David, and Harry had not. Instead, Harry had sprinted for the door the minute Quirrel had fainted. However, he felt a weight hit him in the spine and was suddenly lifted off the ground, borne by a sprinting David.

"What in the hell are you doing?" Harry asked, seeing Neville running behind them.

"Frankly, I run faster than you do. Hermione doesn't know." With David's radically faster sprint, they were at the bathrooms in minutes. Just in time to see the troll come around the corner. Neville's eyes bulged.

"Into the bathroom. NOW." David said, speaking quietly but urgently. When they moved inside, they ran directly into Hermione, her face washed and heading for the feast.

"What's going on, boys?" David spoke first.

"Troll. About to come in here." Harry broke in.

"I have a plan. Neville, I need you to distract it. Keep moving, it won't hit you. David, see if you can disarm it. Hermione…get down!" The door exploded inwards, showing them in splinters. The four backpedaled, opening distance between them and the fifteen-foot troll. Neville began weaving in front of it.

"Hey! Ugly! Over here! You look like the back end of a manticore!" He pitched a shattered piece of toilet seat at the troll, scoring a direct hit on its head. "Oh great. I think I pissed it off." It roared and swung the club down, and would have turned Neville into paste had he not dived to the side at the last moment.

"David! Now!" David cast a hover charm on the troll's club, sending it flying. Harry caught it with one of its own, manipulating the magic.

"C'mon, big, tall, and ugly. I'm ready for you." He swung the club with magic, striking the troll in the chest. Another swing caught it in the shoulder, knocking it to the side. Several more blows knocked the troll off balance.

"Come on, where am I coming from," Another swing, and Harry closed his eyes, feigning sleep. "I'm sleeping- or am I?" A strike took it in the groin, doubling it over in pain, and a final stroke over the head knocked it to the floor, cold. _Well, I didn't have to jam my wand up it's nose this time…always a plus!_

Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore rushed into the room, gaping at the scene. McGonagall found her voice first. "You took on a fifteen-foot mountain troll and survived?" Harry nodded.

"It wasn't too bad. A few hover charms, a bit of blind luck…not something I'd want to do again though."

McGonagall snapped out of her stunned expression and nodded. "It was a foolish thing to do, Mr. Potter. But twenty points apiece to Gryffindor for exemplary bravery on the part of Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Mitchell, and yourself. Now head back to your Common Room while we clean this up." They headed out the door, but Harry hung back a moment.

"Professors?" Dumbledore turned around. "I would appreciate it if we could keep this quiet. I don't need any more attention. I don't WANT any more attention. Hell, I don't want the attention I have now." Dumbledore and McGonagall nodded. Harry glanced over at Snape and saw the man give him a slight nod, little more than a jerk of the head.

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Harry slumped into his favorite chair in the Common Room, starving. He hadn't gotten a single bite of food down. Neither had Hermione.

"Damn, but I'm hungry," Harry groaned, feeling his stomach complain. "Anybody have any idea how we could get some food?" David thought for a moment.

"Well, when one has some mischief to be done or needs something, one usually goes to the Gruesome Twosome."

"The who?"

"No, not The Who. The Gruesome Twosome. Also known as Fred and George Weasley."

"Considering how much of a prick Ron is, I'm not sure I want to know any more Weasleys," Neville said.

"Neville! Language!"

"Well, its true, Hermione."

"I never said it wasn't. But could you say it without using foul language?" As Neville began a retort, two red-haired demons showed up.

"I believe I heard our new moniker. Did you, Fred?"

"I most certainly did, George. How may we be of assistance?" Harry grinned.

"Well, first off, we need some food. Second off, I need to talk to you boys in private. Have a small business proposition for you."

"Hmm, what could an ickle firstie have that would interest us?" Harry rolled his eyes and wordlessly Summoned the Marauders Map from Fred's (George's?) pocket.

"It's more of what you have that would interest me. We'll talk later. In the meantime- we need food." The boys nodded, and within ten minutes, Harry, Hermione, David, Neville, and the newly handled Gruesome Twosome were tucking into a small feast. Harry had just brought a slice of roast potato to his mouth when another redhead appeared.

"What gives you the right to eat in here?" Harry rolled his eyes. Ron, always the jealous bastard, had to butt in.

"Well, seeing as we didn't get a chance to eat during the feast, I asked the twins to see if they could snag us some food. Here are the results." Neville suddenly turned white. "Nev? You okay?" Hermione glanced in the direction Neville was staring in and turned white as well.

"Oh no. What in hell is HE doing here?" Harry turned, staring over his own shoulder, and spotted Snape. In the Gryffindor common room.

"Well, I'm convinced. The Apocalypse is near. Snape is the Gryffindor Common Room. Repent, ye sinners! Repent!" David said, breaking the tension as they all laughed. Snape looked around, spotted Harry, and jerked his head towards the exit. Harry nodded.

"Excuse me a moment, guys." He stepped outside the portrait, where Snape was waiting.

"This concerns your friends as well, Mr. Potter. Could you ask them to join us?" Harry nodded, and a minute later was back with Neville, David, and Hermione.

"First off, twenty points to Gryffindor apiece, for exemplary spellwork and astounding bravery. Not to mention audacity that would have put your father to shame," Snape said, giving Harry a long look. "Maybe I was wrong about you, Mr. Potter." And with that, he turned on his heel and left, his cape flapping behind you.

"Love him or hate him, the man knows how to make an exit," Harry said. "Now, I hear food calling me."

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Harry clenched his Nimbus tightly, praying that no unforeseen changes to the timeline would pop up at an inconvenient time…like say, when a Bludger was chasing him.

"Nervous, Harry?" Wood asked.

"Little bit. I've seen those Bludgers. I know the twins are good, but as a friend of mine said, it only takes one oh shit to cancel out a hundred attaboys."

"Who said that?"

"David. The American kid."

"Ah. Him. Good guy. Bit off, though."

"Off?"

"Malfoy's bookends tried roughing him up one day. He took both of them down at once, no magic. They haven't bothered him since. Hell, they don't dare." The gate opened, and the team mounted their brooms, soaring out into the Quidditch pitch and taking positions in a hovering circle around Madame Hooch.

"I want a nice clean game. From all of you. If not, you'll be cleaning out the broom sheds from now till you graduate." Harry grinned, and she kicked open the crate, releasing the Snitch and the Bludgers into the air.

She pitched the Quaffle and the Chasers shot off, passing the Quaffle back and forth between them. Harry shot high above the pitch, searching for the Snitch. _Maybe I can catch it before Quirrel starts screwing with my broom…_As if on cue, his broom bucked violently beneath him, nearly tossing him clear. _Quirrel, you shit. You couldn't resist, could you._ He focused (which was difficult, considering his broom was attempting to throw him off while he was over two hundred feet in the air) and cast a Sticking Charm on his hands, binding them to his broom. The moment after that, he was thrown completely off, holding on only by the charm. _Come on Hermione, save my ass…_

He spotted a flash of gold at that moment. "Oh, come on! Now you show up?" The Snitch flashed by him, circling him. It was as if it was taunting him, speeding by just out of reach. He toed off one trainer, and then the other, letting them fall to the ground. He let himself hang limp, waiting for the right moment. _I can't believe I'm about to even try something like this._

The Snitch flew by, and he whipped his legs up, catching it. Between his feet. Madame Hooch's whistle blew, ending the game. But his broom was still bucking. He glanced down at Snape, who was muttering under his breath, staring at Harry. He jerked his head to the side, indicating Quirrel. Snape nodded and stood, pretending to trip. He landed squarely on Quirrel's lap, breaking his eye contact. The broom stopped bucking long enough for Harry to swing a leg over it and guide it back down to the ground. As soon as he touched down, a roar went up from the stands.

"…And Gryffindor wins, 180-0!" Lee shouted through the microphone after a moment, apparently still confused over what had transpired while Harry was dangling from his broom. Harry canceled the Sticking Charm and looked around the pitch, trying to find where his shoes had landed.

"Damnit, where did those things go…" He looked up and spotted one, sitting on one of the goals. The other was at the base of the goal. A few moments later, he had his shoes and was headed towards the locker room.

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"Okay, Harry, what the hell happened up there?" David said as soon as he walked back into the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Someone was jinxing the broom. I don't know who, but somebody was. And I have the feeling a teacher was doing it." _I really do have a feeling that a teacher was doing it- after all, it WAS Quirrel._ A loud voice broke in and Harry groaned internally.

"I bet you it was Snape. Slimy git is always trying to mess up the Gryffindors," Ron declared.

"No, Ron. It wasn't Snape. In fact, Snape saved my life today." Ron scoffed.

"Impossible. A slimy snake would never save a Gryffindor." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Ron, you can try all you like, but you can't deny something that's already happened. So just…quit while you're behind, okay?" Ron sneered at him and opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" Ron seemed to be shouting something, but there was no sound. Harry leant to the side, spotting George (Fred?) behind Ron, caught in a silent fit of laughter, with his wand pointed at Ron's back. "Thanks, boys. Anyway…I cast a Sticking Charm on my hands so I wouldn't get thrown clear, and since the Snitch was flying by, I figured I'd grab it while I could. Not bad for ten second's thought, huh?" He took glanced at Hermione, who still had nail imprints on her face. "Don't worry, Hermione. That won't happen again."

She gave him a tight hug. "You promise?"

"I promise, babe." _Especially because if it DOES happen again, I'll nail Quirrel's balls to the floor, and his tongue to the roof. Oh, the possibilities..._ "So calm down, okay?" She nodded, her face still buried in his chest. "That's my girl." _Oh hell, I shouldn't have said that. Well, had to start working on her sometime. _She looked up at him, her eyes uncertain.

"Do you mean that in the friendship sense…or something more?" Harry shrugged.

"Whatever you'd like, Hermione." Harry kept her eyes locked with his and felt the sparks beginning to fly between him and Hermione. Hours seemed to pass before someone cleared their throat.

"If I may interrupt? I think someone should give ginger here his voice back before he wets himself." Harry turned and saw David pointing in Ron's direction. The idiot was a brighter red than his own hair because he had been screaming (silently, but screaming nonetheless) so loudly. Harry waited until he took a breath, and then flicked his wand at the boy, muttering "Finite" as he did. Ron threw up his hands and stormed up to his room, slamming the door.

"Redheads. So high strung," David tutted, pulling a wry grin. George (Fred?) spoke up.

"Hey, I resent that remark!" David snorted.

"No, you _resemble_ that remark." George (Fred?) mulled that over a bit and then nodded.

"True, true."

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The next few weeks passed in a blur.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"You've told me how evil the Dursleys were to you. I'm guessing that means you haven't had much of a Christmas each year."

"That's right…why do you ask?"

"Well, I was wondering…would you like to spend Christmas with me and my parents?" Harry started. He hadn't expected _that_.

"Shouldn't you make sure that it's okay with them first?" Hermione held up a letter. "Who delivered that?" She pointed to Hedwig, who was sitting on the table, preening herself. "Traitor." Hedwig snuffled at him, as if to say 'piss off. She's nice.' "Okay, fine. You got me. But how'd you know I'd come with you?" Hermione came over and leant in close to him, whispering in his ear.

"Well, I figured that if you were reluctant, I'd use my…feminine wiles, so to speak, on you, and you'd come." Harry's brain locked down for a moment, as the brain of any fertile male with a pulse would, and all he could do was stammer as Hermione laughed softly and went back to her chair. _I think I almost just did come…it's been a while, after all…_

"Well, I have a feeling a certain fuzzy old interfering buzzard might have a problem, but if he does, he'll just have to suck it up. Might as well check, though. Would they pick us up, or should I call a friend to get us to your parent's place?"

"What would be the point of that?"

"Well, we'd get our Christmas shopping done early, and we'd make a stop by Diagon Alley," Harry paused a moment, before tossing in the bit he knew would cinch the deal. "Any maybe stopping by Flourish and Blotts…"

"I'm in!"

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Harry strode down a hall on the third floor, turning a corner and slipping into an alcove. Pulling out the Marauder's Map, he tapped it and said quietly, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." The map came to life, and he checked it, making sure that there was nobody following him and that Dumbledore was in his office. A quick moment later, the map was shut down and stowed safely in his pocket.

Harry stopped in front of the gargoyle and spoke clearly to it.

"I say, would you mind terribly letting the Headmaster know that Harry Potter would like to see him, if he isn't too busy?" The gargoyle came to life and cocked his head at him. "Don't worry, he'll let me in. Could you tell him, please?" The gargoyle nodded, and a few moments later, moved out of the way, revealing the staircase. Harry took the steps two at a time, feeling awkward once again in his younger body. He knocked on the door and heard "Come in" from inside.

"Ah, Harry, how good to see you! I didn't know you were coming up!" Harry cocked his head.

"Um…sir, I asked the gargoyle to check if it would be okay with you if I came up." Dumbledore was silent a moment.

"Yes, yes, I believe you did…how about that…" Harry waited a moment, but Dumbledore was silent.

"Sir, I was wondering if you were going to ask me to go back to the Dursleys for winter holidays. Because if you do, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed." Dumbledore shook his head.

"No need for that, although you will need to go back to them over the summer." Harry quirked an eyebrow as Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and he felt a mental probe touch his shields. And slide off. Due to John's fizzing Occlumency-shields-and-power-boost drink, trying to penetrate his shields was like trying to squeeze a solid steel ball that was dipped in oil in your fist.

"Sir, I'd like to know why."

"It's for your own protection, Harry."

"Need a better reason than that, sir," Harry said flatly.

"Harry, we can talk about this later. In the meantime, was there anything else you would like to ask me?" Harry shook his head, and turned to leave. "Harry?" Harry turned back, giving the Headmaster a hard look. "Did you wish to go someplace over winter holidays?"

"Actually, sir, I was wondering if I could spend the holidays with the Grangers. They've given their okay, and I figured I should check if there were any plans that you had made for me." _Not that I would give two shits if there were._ Dumbledore shook his head and smiled_._

"I think that would be an excellent idea, Harry."

"Good. I'd just be sitting around here getting into trouble anyway."

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Harry, Neville, and Hermione settled into the compartment on the train. Neville immediately stood back up again.

"Oh, bugger, you have got to be kidding me…" He began frantically patting down his pockets. Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes in unison.

"Neville…just use the charm." Neville looked at them dejectedly.

"You guys know I can't. I just don't have the focus." Hermione huffed impatiently1.

"Fine. I'll do it, but you really need to learn to focus on your own, Neville." She waved her wand and spoke the incantation, and a few moments later, a disappointed-looking Trevor zipped through the open door.2 He was followed a few seconds later by David, who plopped down in the seat next to Neville, narrowly missing Trevor. The frog gave a low croak and hopped into Neville's lap, a relatively safe place.

"So, what are you guys planning?" Harry gave David his best innocent look.

"Planning? What makes you think we're planning anything?" David looked surprised and turned to Neville.

"This from the boy who planted a box of fireworks under Snape's chair and set them to go off as soon as he sat down. This from the boy who executed an elaborate plan to send Malfoy (the git) running out of the Great Hall at breakfast with a half-ton of food taking turns bouncing off of him. This from the man who laced Dumbledore's lemon drops with a potion that made him unable to control his-"

"Yes-we're-planning-something-and-that's-quite-enough-out-of-you," Hermione broke in, trying to avoid the memory of that event. David chuckled.

"I knew rolling out that event would work. What'cha gonna do?"

"Well, rather than spend the holidays at my relatives' house or at Hogwarts with the red-haired bottomless buzzsaw, Hermione had one of her many strokes of pure genius and invited me to spend the holidays at her parents' house."

"Oh, cool. I'm probably gonna Floo home."

"Floo?"

"Long story short- you throw a pinch of magical powder into a fireplace, step into the fire, say your destination, and you get shot through the Floo Network, as it's called, and shoot out the fireplace on the other side."

"Sounds…painful."

"You have no idea. Do you have any idea what happens if you mispronounce your destination? I was going to Colombia for the summer once and ended up in Canada. Took three weeks before anyone would tell me where I was. This is why I don't like Canadians."

Neville cocked his head. "What is it with Americans and disliking Canadians?"

David looked aghast. "Look. Americans, especially Californians, do not like Canadians. It's one of those things we do not question. Like refried beans and anti-lock brakes."

"What are anti-lock brakes?"

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The train pulled into King's Cross Station, and the foursome disembarked, gathering their luggage and finding a spot that eighteen people weren't attempting to occupy at the same time.

"Why do you have a duffel bag instead of a trunk?" Harry asked, indicating the black duffel that David had slung over his shoulder.

"Do you really think I'm going to drag a big heavy box around like you guys?"

"So, how are you guys getting out of here?" Neville remarked absently, searching the crowd for his grandmother.

"I made a friend before school started, so that's our ride. No idea about David here." David smiled evilly.

"Oh, don't worry, I have my own method of transport." He pointed, and in a corner of the platform, where Harry never would have looked had he not been directed, there was a pitch-black streetfighter motorbike. Hermione spoke first. Harry was too busy drooling over the incredibly sexy-looking bike.

"David, the legal driving age in Britain is seventeen. Last I checked, you were still four years shy of that."

"Do you really think I'm bound by Muggle laws? Besides, there are so many notice-me-not charms and distraction wards on that thing that I have trouble finding it sometimes. Besides, even if I hadn't been riding it since I was six, there are enough cushioning charms and protection spells on it that I could drive the damn thing off a cliff and not even scratch the paint or bruise my knees. I haven't tried it yet, but I don't rule it out." Neville finally spotted his grandmother's hat and fought his way through the throng of people.

"Well, I'll see you guys later!" He shouted as he disappeared into the crowd.

David, Harry, and Hermione walked out onto the Muggle side of the station, David wheeling the bike alongside him.

"So, who's this friend you have giving you a ride?"

Harry produced the card with a flourish. "He's a magical cabbie, name of William Matthews. Seems like a decent guy, and one hell of a driver. I have a feeling that his cab has a lot more than just Muggle equipment under the hood." He stuck out his thumb as they emerged from the inside of King's Cross and a single car seemed to squeeze through several lanes of traffic, pulling into a space next to the curb. Harry could see Matthew's face in the front seat of the cab and grinned. He tossed a pre-rolled wad of bank notes, this one fifty pounds, onto the front seat.

"Leaky Cauldron in a half hour?" Billy scoffed.

"Make it twenty minutes. I could use a challenge." Billy loaded their trunks into the cab and spotted David's bike. "Wow. Ducati Monster?" David nodded, a faint smile on his face. "I used to have one of those. Then my ex-girlfriend stole it and wrecked it." David smiled.

"Gotta love psycho ex-girlfriends, don't'cha?"

"Well, you can't shoot em, can you? I bet you that I could beat you to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Take my duffel and you're on. Shall we say a twenty?"

"Deal." David retrieved a small backpack from the duffel bag and slid on a leather jacket and a pair of gloves, and fitted the helmet hanging from the handlebars over his long hair.

He looked at them as if surprised. "What are you waiting for? Losers first!"

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The cab screeched to a halt in front of the Leaky Cauldron, apparently molding itself between a pair of sedans parked on the curb. David's bike roared out of a nearby alley and screeched to a halt next to them as Billy unloaded their trunks.

"You almost lost me back in the Underground. Never thought you'd be nuts enough to play chicken with a train.

"Well, that's how I stay in business-by being that crazy. How'd you catch up?"

"Oh, I doubled back and cut across a couple rooftops and Buckingham Palace. It was simple after that." Matthews' eyes bugged out. "What? You the only one that gets to be insane?" The cabbie laughed, and shook his head.

"Well, I'll give you that one. Remember Harry, you ever need anything, I got your back."

Hermione waved. "Bye, Billy!"

"See ya, curls." Hermione giggled, before swaying slightly. Harry let her lean on him.

"Don't worry, the dizziness passes. It's not nearly as sickening the second time."

* * *

Author's Notes:

I realized I hadn't really thought about how David looks, aside from that he's thin, has really blue eyes, and is really tanned. He's also got long hair, part brown and partly bleached.

1: I tried as hard as I could to make this alliterate, but there is no H-adjective that would fit. Blame JK Rowling.

2: I know frogs always look disappointed, but work with me here.


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: All characters so far except for David Mitchell, William Matthews, and are the property of J.K. Rowling. I'm not her. Therefore, no cash is being made.

Description: Harry goes back after the final battle and decides to give things a shove in the direction he wants them to go. Now, this isn't a "Do-Over" fic per se, its more of a "What the **** was that? Let's try that one again!" fic.

A/N: You can't believe how much I enjoyed opening my inbox the day after I posted the chapter…over sixty emails about the new chapter. Thanks to everyone who commented, especially Alorkin. I had a good long rant ready for Worldmaker, but I figured that aside from a vastly overinflated ego, he's made no definite contribution to society, so it's really not worth the trouble. However, I do fail to see why he has nothing better to do with his life than to go around posting negative reviews on fanfictions that contain pairings that he doesn't like. Hell of a hobby, eh?

A/N 2: I've been wondering- how do bottomless storage items work? Bottomless bottles, bags, and boxes…it doesn't make sense. Wouldn't the item just keep falling, and you'd have to turn the holder on its head every so often so the stuff inside didn't get lost?

A/N 3: I'm conveniently ignoring the fact that phones at the point in time of the story were the size of large building bricks. I'm also ignoring the fact that Muggle homes usually aren't hooked up to the Floo Network. I'm assuming that as a precaution, all homes with a student at Hogwarts are hooked up in case of emergency.

A/N 4: A lot of people are wondering who in the world David Mitchell is. Well, he's just your ordinary Yank. He's a product of my fractured psyche and eventually people will learn who he is and how he learned Legillimency well enough to politely knock on someone's mind (rather than kick the door in like Snape would), as well as dueling and physical training. He's not a fellow time-traveler, or an agent of fate, or anything like that. Not saying there won't be those, though.

A/N 5: Past the haze of my CRS, I vaguely remember someone mentioning a resemblance to Seel'vor's mindscape. Well, Seel'vor is one of my favorite fanfic authors, but the idea for Harry's self-reflection period in the Room of Requirement didn't come from Harry's mindscape.

A/N 6: There are still movie quotes in each chapter, and anyone who gets one will get a mention in the next chapter. Well, on with the story!

This Chapter: Holidays at the Grangers' house!

* * *

Chapter 6

The threesome walked into the Leaky Cauldron and Harry immediately ducked his head, trying to avoid being noticed.

"You guys head on out the other side. I'll stick our luggage and my bike with Tom. Still can't believe that guy beat me, even in London traffic…" David wheeled his bike over to the toothless bartender as the two first-years discreetly made their way across the room and out the other door. A few moments later, David emerged behind them, carrying his backpack and still wearing the jacket and gloves.

"So, what's first?" Hermione opened her mouth, but Harry held up a hand.

"Not Flourish and Blotts." Hermione pouted. "If we go there first off, we'll never leave. Why not head for Gambol and Japes?" David chuckled.

"Can you imagine the mayhem that you could cause with a few of their tricks?"

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The three kids emerged from the joke shop almost a half hour later. They had stowed their purchases in David's charmed backpack, which had a space expansion charm on it, as well as featherweight charms. David had been explaining the mechanics behind the charms to Hermione and Harry.

"So all it's really doing is stretching the area inside the container. It bends the laws of physics so that it can hold a greater volume in the same space. That's why when you do one of these charms there's no vacuum effect." Hermione nodded, but Harry was only half listening- he was wondering about what to get Hermione for Christmas.

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The threesome split up - Hermione went off down the alley, where David and Harry went up-alley to try to find gifts for their friends and families. David picked out a set of dress robes for his parents that would change colors on demand after Harry nearly strangled himself with them, and Harry managed to find a bag with a space expansion charm on it for Hermione.

At one point, Harry and David split up, and Harry ventured into Muggle London to purchase David's gift. He returned just in time to catch Hermione trying to sneak into Flourish and Blotts. He sent her packing, before meeting up with David and doing a bit more shopping.

David's gift was a little harder to get. They ended up getting Hermione a set of fountain pens that were filled with magical color-changing ink and charmed never to go dry. The ink and pens were a lucky find in a dusty shop with a half-blood owner who had not shaved in years and looked at them as if they were the first customers he had had in months- they probably were, judging by the inch-thick layer of dust on the floor. The ink would change colors on demand and would flash if a word were misspelled.

They met up again outside Flourish and Blotts, where Hermione stashed her purchases in David's pack, refusing to let the others see. After several hours, Harry and David managed to drag Hermione out of the store over her protests of "I'm not done yet! There's still some books in the back I haven't seen!" Harry had managed to snag a small book from one of the back shelves, believing it could come in handy.

"You figure Billy could show up in the middle of Diagon Alley?"

"I wouldn't risk it. He wouldn't care about pasting a few people." David shrugged.

"Well, I'm gonna go grab my bike and get home. I'd owl you guys, but I can't exactly send Mickey across a continent and an ocean, can I?"

"What about the Floo?"

"Well, I suppose it's possible, but you might want to clear the area in front of the fireplace. I tend to make rough landings. As in I usually require first aid. My parents learned long ago- they set a rubber mat out in front of the fireplace whenever they know I might be coming through."

Somewhere in the depths of Harry's mind, a neuron sparked. "Hey, I just remembered- before school started, I bought a mobile. It was more of a whim- I don't really have anyone to call. Figure we could stay in contact like that?" David nodded.

"It's a royal pain to call international, but…you have it with you?" Harry nodded, and slid the phone from a jacket pocket. David looked it over, closed his eyes and tapped it with his wand in an odd, almost musical sequence, and handed it back. "There ya go. Free calling. Forever." Harry grinned. "Now, are we going to spend the entire time with our families, or are we going to meet back at Hogwarts a little early so we can kick it for a while before school starts again?" The three made arrangements to meet back at Hogwarts a week before the end of the holidays.

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David stepped into the fire with his bike and duffel, spoke his home address in a clear voice, and was gone in a flash of green fire. The two first-years immediately felt sad from the departure of their friend, but recovered after a moment of confusion about what to do next.

"So, you reckon we should try the Floo, or should I call Billy again?" Harry asked, shifting his purchases from one hand to the other, wishing he had asked David about the incantation for the featherweight charm. In his previous timeline, he had never learned the charm.

Hermione turned slightly green and shook her head. "I don't think I could handle that again. Let's try the Floo." They retrieved their trunks from Tom, got a pinch of Floo powder apiece, and as Hermione told Harry the address, he mentally readied himself for another sickening (and possibly dangerous to himself and others) ride through the Floo network.

"You wanna go first? Maybe explain who's coming through so your dad doesn't clobber me after I fall out of the fireplace?" Hermione nodded, clutched her trunk and purchases close, and tossed her Floo powder into the fire. A quick step and a few spoken words later, Hermione was gone, and after waiting a few seconds, Harry tossed his pinch of Floo powder into the fire, stepped into the green flames, and spoke the Granger address. He felt the same spinning sensation as he always did, and by the time he was sent out of the Granger's fireplace, his inner ear was confused enough to tell him that his knees were up around his eyeballs. Harry exited the Floo as he always did- headfirst, tumbling arse over trunk. He was buried under the items he was holding, facedown in a rather comfortable shag rug. He heard a yelp from somewhere above him, and the various objects on top of him were removed by a concerned Hermione.

"Harry, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just fine. I enjoy having everything I was holding land forcefully on top of me after being sent through a fiery spin-cycle and shot out of a fireplace. How are you?" He heard two giggles and a quiet chuckle from above him. "I sense we're not alone."

A gentle voice with a Liverpool accent answered. "You sense correctly, kid. Name's Alan Granger. This is my wife, Chloe Granger."

Still facedown on the rug with his trunk pinning him down, Harry answered, "I'd shake your hand, sir, but I seem to have misplaced them on the way over here." Feeling his inner ear settle, he began squirming, wiggling out from under the trunk. He slowly got to his feet, trying to avoid shaking soot on the carpet. He saw Hermione, lightly covered in soot with an ear-to-ear grin, as well as two adults- a tall, well-built man with Hermione's nose and eyes, and a shorter, rather buxom woman with Hermione's wild hair. Harry glanced down at his hands, which were thoroughly covered in soot. "On second thought, maybe we shouldn't shake hands…"

Mr. Granger laughed. "Don't worry about that, son. I work with people with absolutely filthy mouths, in both senses of the phrase. A little soot won't hurt." Harry shrugged and held out his hand, and gave the Granger patriarch a firm handshake. "Besides, you two already wrecked the carpet, so how much more harm can you do?" Harry glanced down and spotted a grayish outline of his body on the carpet, as well as a set of footprints leading to where Hermione was standing.

Harry's eyes went from the carpet, to his own body, to the fireplace, to Mrs. Granger, who was wearing a rather odd expression. As they did, he was thinking of a way to make a good impression. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, another neuron sparked, and Harry put a cheesy grin on his face, doing his best to look cute. It worked, and both the Granger parents broke out laughing.

"Well, I think you should leave your things here and step out back for a moment," Mrs. Granger said after she stopped laughing.

"Why, mum?" Hermione asked.

"Why, so we can hose you down, of course! I don't know if showering would do it, and besides, you'd probably leave a ring around the shower!" They all had another good laugh at that.

A few moments later, Harry was screaming.

"AAACK-PTTH!" Harry sputtered as Mrs. Granger turned a stream of cold water on him. "I thought you were joking about the hose!"

"Nope! Now hold still! I need to get behind your ears!" He waited until he had been completely hosed off, and then shook like a dog, spraying water everywhere. Hermione hosed down, leaving the both of them shivering until she tossed them a pair of large fluffy towels. "I hate to see kids looking like half-drowned puppies. Let's get you inside and dried off before you turn into popsicles."

A few shiver-filled minutes later, Harry was pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and a pullover, as Mrs. Granger took the soot-covered clothes away, muttering about how she'd need a new washer after today. Harry pulled on a fresh pair of socks and was about to step out of the bathroom when he heard a voice behind him.

"So, enjoying yourself so far?" Harry yelped and spun, finding Jane standing behind him.

"What are you doing here?"

"We said we'd drop in from time to time, didn't we?"

Harry mulled that over a moment. "If you did, I can't remember."

"Oh. Pity. Anyway, how's it going?"

"Pretty well, so far. I've got a few questions, though."

"Shoot."

"First off – David Mitchell. Who the hell is he, and did you guys send him?"

"He's an American. If you want to know why he's here, you should ask him. We didn't send him. Didn't even tweak things to get him sent to Hogwarts."

"Then how did he get here, if he wasn't here the first time 'round?"

Jane sighed. "I blame chaos theory. Or the Fates. I haven't had a chance to ask them, so I'm not sure."

"What, you didn't think to ask?"

Jane sighed again. "Well, I do have other things to do, y'know. Twice a day, every day, I have to jam a pineapple up Hitler's ass. Then I have to go and make sure that every damn demon I rule over is doing their job instead of partying. Sometimes it's hard being the master of sin."

"It's a living."

"Technically, it's an undying, but whatever."

"Right. What do I do about Quirrel?"

"Well, you could try to expose that open sore on the back of his head, but Voldemort would probably escape anyway. Make one hell of a statement, though. Any other questions?"

"Just one for now…what do I do about Sirius?"

"Not much you can, yet. I know you've been over this with yourself and Hogwarts before, so yes, you made the right decision."

Harry paused. "Hogwarts had a part in that? Is the castle sentient?"

"I wouldn't say its sentient per se. It's got a mind to it, but Hogwarts isn't much of a conversationalist. There's a lot of common sense to it, though. Before you ask, the castle itself absorbs all the excess magic from the students and faculty. It's why the castle is still standing essentially the way it always has been after two-thousand-odd years. But yes, it would be a bad idea to free Sirius now. I would however work on some way to track Pettigrew."

"How?"

Jane smiled, and began to fade. "Well, when the wizards don't have a way, the Muggles usually do…" She disappeared, leaving a much-unenlightened Harry standing in the bathroom.

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Harry stumbled back and fell, landing hard on his rear. He stood, and tiptoed forward quietly. He had made it less than three steps into the kitchen before he heard a quiet "ahem". He turned around, his biggest smile on his face. Mrs. Granger did not share his enthusiasm.

"Oh, come on! I wanna help!"

"And how, exactly, do you plan to do that?"

"I can cook." Mrs. Granger stared at him a moment, before bursting out laughing.

"Yeah, sure. Like any man can cook something in the kitchen that's beyond the level of cornflakes…" She trailed off as Harry opened a cabinet, finding her spices and picking out a few. A quick look at the roast sitting on the counter, and Harry picked out another few spice bottles, before picking up a small plate. Grabbing a small stepstool, he stood high enough over the counter and began pouring bits of the various spices onto the plate. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I see that the roast is just…well, just that, the roast. What I'm doing is making an herb crust. You rub this stuff into the surface of the meat and it will soak the flavors up."

"And you know how to do this from scratch?"

Harry shook his head, before grinning impishly. "No, but I figured it out from checking the packets. Have you got any olive oil?" She handed him the small bottle, and he poured a small amount into the grainy mix. "Well, that's done…"

"What are you going to do for an encore? Walk on water?"

Harry grinned impishly, before looking around the kitchen, taking in the various ingredients. "Unless I'm much mistaken, you're making the roast, glazed carrots, mashed potatoes," he lifted a pot's lid and sniffed lightly, "what smells like an incredible sauce of some sort," he looked inside the oven and his eyes bugged out, "oh, you wonderful woman. A treacle tart!" He paused a moment. "Wait, I thought you were dentists."

"Doesn't mean we can't have our guilty pleasures, does it?"

"Good point. So, I'll start working this into the meat, if you'll start on the carrots and potatoes."

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Harry stuck his head out through the kitchen door. "Everyone ready?" Hermione nodded, and Harry stepped through the door, carrying the roast on a massive plate. He set it on the table, and Mr. Granger produced a large knife and fork, before cutting into the meat. Meanwhile, Harry began struggling with a bottle of wine. "Buggering piece of shite…" he muttered under his breath as the corkscrew skidded off the top of the bottle. Mrs. Granger gently took it out of his hands and expertly extracted the cork. "Showoff." He began pouring wine into Mr. Granger's glass. "Say when."

He watched it for a moment. "When."

Harry did the same with Mrs. Granger's glass. "Say when."

She looked at her watch as he poured. "Seven-thirty." Harry snorted, put the bottle down, and began struggling with the twist-cap on a bottle of sparkling cider for Hermione and himself.

"Buggering piece of-" Hermione took the bottle out of his hands.

"I could do without being sprayed with this stuff, thanks." Harry took the mature route, crossing his eyes and blowing a raspberry at her. She opened the bottle and poured them each a glass as Mr. Granger finished slicing the roast.

"You like it well-done, Harry?"

"Er, more medium-rare, actually. Thank you."

"Good boy." He set a slice of meat on Harry's plate.

"Alan prefers it if his steak still has a pulse," Chloe said, sipping her wine.

"Oh, you enjoy yours still mooing?" There were chuckles around the table.

They dug in, and very little was spoken.

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Alan slumped in his chair, his head down. Chloe was dozing, her head on the table, her nose resting on the empty treacle tart plate. Hermione and Harry cleared the last of the dishes away, before standing next to the table.

"There were no survivors," Harry said quietly. Hermione giggled. "As much as I'd love to set off a firework under the table, I doubt that they'd enjoy it very much."

"Yeah…would be fun, though."

"Lost opportunity. C'mon, let's wake 'em up." They roused the two parents, who insisted that they had not been asleep, merely resting their eyes. Acting the part of good children, Hermione and Harry nodded, agreed, and essentially ignored everything that they said. Guiding them up to bed, the children dumped Hermione's parents in their room and quietly returned to the dining room.

There was a moment of awkward silence. Harry spoke first. "So, now what?"

Hermione hesitated. "I'm not sure…Harry, I want to thank you…"

Harry cocked his head, looking like a curious puppy. "For what?"

"Saving my life, of course! You, Neville, and David fought a fifteen foot mountain troll on your own, and won!"

"Honestly, if it hadn't been for David, we never would have made it in time."

"What do you mean?"

"As soon as I heard that there was a troll in the castle, I left the Great Hall. I had gone about twenty meters before David grabbed me. Neville was with him, and he got us there a lot faster than we could have otherwise."

"Oh. I didn't know that part."

"Yeah. I guess I should stop standing him up and start training with him," Harry said, feeling guilty. Every weekend since David had made the offer, Harry had come up with some excuse not to go.

"Definitely. Neville's been working with him as well, and he's already started getting in shape."

"Right. Now…about you thanking me…" Being a teenaged boy on the inside, several perverted ideas flashed across Harry's mind, before being banished. _We're eleven years old. Can't be doing that quite yet. Even if we could, I'm not sure if some of those things are even legal in Britain…_Ending his reverie, Harry continued. "You really don't have to. We did what we had to do. Nothing more, nothing less." Harry thought about it a moment. "Well, then again, the troll must have been mighty embarrassed when it went back to its buddies and told them that it got its arse handed to it by three children."

The two shared a laugh over that one. Hermione yawned, and Harry suddenly felt tired as well. "Well, I think I'm going to call it a night. We've made up the guest bed for you. C'mon, I'll show you."

Harry found that the guest bed was a rather spacious room with a high ceiling and a full-sized bed. He set his trunk down next to the bed and set Hedwig's empty cage next to the window.

"Well, unless there's anything else…" Harry shook his head. As he did, something caught his eye.

"Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me…" Hermione spun, looking around.

"What?"

Harry pointed. "Mistletoe. I have a feeling your parents set us up."

Hermione grinned. "Well, it'd be a shame to disappoint them, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it would." Hermione stepped closer, and he leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on her lips. "Merry Christmas, Hermione."

She stepped away, looking a touch off-balance. "Merry Christmas, Harry." She left the room, and Harry put his ear to the door, hearing her mutter as she went down the hall towards her room. He heard something about "how on earth did he throw me off with one kiss" and nearly did a backflip into his bed.

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On Christmas Day, Harry woke to a tapping at the window. He grabbed his glasses from the nighttable and found Hedwig outside, looking about as angry as an owl could manage without resorting to violence. "Oh, Hedwig, I'm so sorry! I forgot to open the window last night, girl!" She flapped in and settled onto her perch, turning away and pointedly ignoring him. He set a small tray of Owl Treats below her perch, apologized once more, and when he received no response, left the room.

He found the Grangers waiting for him, each sipping a cup of tea. "Morning, Harry," Alan grunted, his hair sticking up at odd angles. "Merry Christmas."

Chloe Granger, on the other hand, was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (and –haired) as she handed Harry a cup of tea. "Here you go, Harry." She paused and looked at him a moment. "What's wrong?"

Harry sighed. "I messed up. I accidentally left the window in the guest room closed, and Hedwig was shut out for what I guess must have been all night. She won't even look at me!"

Hermione looked up from her tea. "She'll be alright, Harry. Now," She continued, setting her teacup down, "to the presents!"

Hermione went first – she received clothes from her parents, and then turned to the massive box that contained Harry and David's gifts. She tore off the wrapping paper, sending confetti everywhere, and opened the box, to find…

"What on earth is this?" She asked, holding up a wizard cracker that was sitting on top of another box. Harry grinned, and tugged on the end. The magical item went off like a muffled gunshot and turned itself into a rubber chicken. Harry promptly handed it to Alan, who looked puzzled for a moment, before sitting the chicken on the table and resolving to work it out at a more godly hour. Hermione opened the next box, to find another wizard cracker sitting on top of the next smaller box. There was a total of seven boxes in all, along with seven wizard crackers, which, when pulled, resulted in: two Santa hats, a bouquet of flowers, the rubber chicken, a tin crown that ended up perched on Mrs. Granger's head, a pair of fresh trout, and a small toy Wizard's Chess Set. Hermione pulled open the last box, giving out a small cry of frustration when its contents were in another layer of wrapping paper. "Honestly, Harry! Did you do this to frustrate me?"

Harry mulled it over a moment, before nodding. "Yup. I did." He received the two trout in his lap as a reward. Hermione shredded the last layer of wrapping paper, finding the fountain pens and bag.

Harry opened his gifts, finding a pair of books – "How to Battle Mountain Trolls, Acromantulas, and Other Things You Shouldn't" from David, and "Deep Dark Secrets – the Tricks and Tips to Pranks" from Hermione. He also found a squishy package from Dumbledore, and resolved to open it later, knowing what it contained.

"Thanks, Harry. I really like the bag, and my quill keeps breaking."

"Well, the bag's actually from David. I wonder what he's up to. But a few other gifts are still on the way…I ordered a few things from Flourish and Blotts, and they'll arrive by post owl before we leave for Hogwarts again."

"By the way," Alan interjected, "are you going to be leaving the same way you came, or do we need to drive you to King's Cross?"

"I was planning on calling a friend of mine for a ride there. No offense, but he can get us there far faster than any other person can."

"Yeah, because he defies the laws of physics," Hermione snarked.

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Christmas Day in the Mitchell household was essentially the same event as in the Granger household. The occupants rose, and (after a cup of coffee, rather than breakfast tea) opened their gifts. The Mitchell parents were rather impressed with their son's fashion taste and pledged to wear the robes to their next magical dinner. David was rather pleased with Harry's gift to him – training gear that could be adjusted to different resistance levels and weights.

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Christmas Day in the Weasley household was, to say the least, a bit strange. It was less like an opening of presents than it was a riot with confetti made from wrapping paper. The standard Weasley jumpers were handed out and two strange gifts were found as well. Neither had a 'from' on it, but a hard package was given to Ron, which contained "Common Sense – Ten Thousand Ways to Not Be A Git", and a smaller, rigid package was given to the Twins. They opened it, to find a pair of rigid metal cards, each with their name on it. They were a link to an unlimited line of credit to any joke shop in Britain. There was, however, a card with the present, which read "This should get you started, boys."

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Minerva McGonagall occasionally got presents from her students, and found that usually, they got her something boring – such as books, or robes. However, she opened the present from her two favorite (secretly, of course) students and immediately felt better about the world. She transformed into her Animagus form, before pouncing on the catnip-laced ball of string and batting it across her office. Losing sight of it, she began chasing a loose bit of wrapping paper, and resolved to thank the two students for their gift. In private, of course.

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Albus Dumbledore looked at the large pile of presents with dismay. He could tell immediately that most of them were books. "Lets see…books from the Bones, the Longbottoms, the Prewitts…" he set the stack aside when he spotted several smaller packages.

He opened the first one, and found a pair of thick, woolen socks – bright pink, with polka dots that flashed between purple and orange. Setting those aside, he opened the next package, which were equally garish, but in neon Gryffindor colors. The next packages had the same in Ravenclaw colors, Hufflepuff colors, and Slytherin colors. Resolving to wear them as soon as possible, Dumbledore set them aside, before tugging off his own socks and donning the pink pair. He opened the rest of his gifts, finding the usual amount of books and candy, excluding Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans. He cast a Softening Charm on the rock cakes from Hagrid and munched on one with his tea, idly scratching his foot.

The tiny itch that had developed on the arch of his left foot began to spread and intensify as he scratched it, eventually becoming almost painful. Dumbledore pulled off the sock, expecting to find itching powder inside, and was startled when his foot burst into flame. He tossed his tea onto the fire with a yelp, before realizing that the fire was not in fact burning him. However, the tea was. Dumbledore pulled off the other sock, and found that his right foot also apparently caught fire when it was exposed to the air. He let the 'fire' burn for a few moments, before ending the enchantment with a flick of his wand.

Dumbledore resolved to discover who had given him the socks, and reward them for superior spellwork. After all, even Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin, First Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, could appreciate a good prank. So, Dumbledore decided to put all of his not unimpressive brainpower to work on the problem…after a lemon drop.

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Christmas Day in Azkaban was, when it actually happened, gruesome. Of course, it was Christmas for the Dementors every time a new inmate was brought in, but for the solitary male guard and the inmates, it was a bizarre event. Even more so because the Dementors would usually come closer and feed off the positive emotions from those who received gifts. On this particular Christmas Day, a large package arrived for Sirius Black. The guard brought it to Black's cell and set it inside.

"Oy! Black! You've got a package!" The scraggly-looking man unwrapped the package slowly, wondering what it could be. He found a vacuum-sealed box of food, along with a smaller box, and a book, titled "The Great Escape – How to Escape from Things One Shouldn't". Popping open the box of food and munching on a chicken leg, Sirius opened the smaller box and laughed for the first time in ten years. Inside, there was a six-inch-deep stack of wizarding and Muggle pornography, as well as a card, which read, "I know the truth, Padfoot. Keep hope."

The guard was surprised when he found that the laughter coming from Sirius's cell scared him far more than the dementors ever had.

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Severus Snape arose late on Christmas Morning. He never received a gift from anyone but Dumbledore, and the old man gave him a bloody pair of socks every year, so what was the point in getting up early for that? However, this year, the greasy Potions master was surprised to find a gift at the foot of his bed, duly delivered by the house-elves. He opened it, and was even more surprised when a large, misty orb rose from the package and hovered at eye level.

"What on earth…" He pulled out his wand and prodded it. The bubble burst, sending a wave of magical soap out in every direction. The soap scoured everything it touched clean in an instant, before vanishing.

* * *

Had to give Snape there a little trouble at the end. R&R.

-Lightning


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: All characters so far except for David Mitchell, William Matthews, and are the property of J.K. Rowling. I'm not her. Therefore, no cash is being made.

Description: Harry goes back after the final battle and decides to give things a shove in the direction he wants them to go. Now, this isn't a "Do-Over" fic per se, its more of a "What the **** was that? Let's try that one again!" fic.

A/N: Today we recognize Miss. Silver Star and Mason, the only two who have gotten a movie quote (surprisingly, the same one – the Little Nicky quote in Chapter 5). As to everyone who keeps thinking the quote in Chapter 3 is from Kung Fu Panda, here's a hint: It is the right quote, but the wrong movie. It's from a recent Kevin Spacey movie. I get my quotes directly off the Internet Movie Data Base (use the first letters of each word for the website acronym – it's a dot com) so that should make it easier for you.

A/N 2:

This Chapter: Return to Hogwarts

Chapter 7

Harry cracked an eye open and shifted ever so slightly, watching as his target came closer. When she sat down and switched on the television, Harry reached up and tugged lightly on a few hairs protruding from the back of her head. She reached up and scratched the back of her head, assuming it was simply an itch. As soon as her hand went down, Harry reached up and tugged lightly again, before yanking his hand back down. This process was repeated several times, before Hermione walked into the room just in time to catch Harry reaching up again.

"Mum, you're not going to believe this…"

Mrs. Granger leapt up and spun around. "Harry Potter! Come out of there this instant!"

Harry poked his head up out of the cushions. "Who, me?"

"Yes you! Out here, mister! Now!"

Grinning like the cat that got the canary, Harry emerged from the cushions of the couch. "I think this was a new record. Twelve times." He gave Hermione a mock glare. "And it would have been more, if someone hadn't come in and spoiled it!" Hermione put all of her massive intellect into her response.

She crossed her eyes and blew a raspberry at him. At that moment, a large package came soaring down the chimney and landed squarely in the fire. Mrs. Granger yelped and ran for the package, but Harry strolled over and picked up a pair of fire tongs, before lifting the package out of the fire. There wasn't even a trace of soot on the package.

"Flourish and Blotts puts their packages under fireproof charms, waterproof charms, the whole bit. These things could have landed in a pile of horse muck just after a nuclear explosion and been fine."

"Well, if a nuke had gone off, wouldn't the horse muck be gone?"

Harry paused at that. "You spoil all my fun."

"It is for your own good, Harry."

"Please. I've had enough people do things 'for my own good'."

Now Mrs. Granger was concerned. "Really? Like who?"

"Well, the Dursleys, for one. They never told me I had magic or anything about my parents, for 'my own good'. Dumbledore wants me to go back there, because he thinks I'm safer there than I am in a place under the Fidelius Charm. I talked to the goblins the day I got my letter from Hagrid. Apparently, he's been making decisions for me 'for my own good' for many years. Something I have to look into."

As if on cue, the letterbox clinked. "What on earth?" Mrs. Granger said as she picked up the letter. It was written on parchment, but the envelope had large amounts of writing on it. There was a bit of flowing writing, which had been crossed out and rewritten several times, before someone had simply printed the address in block letters. It was addressed to Harry, so the boy stuck his wand into the envelope and opened it with a quick tug.

"Oh, perfect. Guess who it's from." Harry began to read it aloud. "Dear Harry, I would like to meet with you when you return to school from your Christmas holidays, to speak with you as to why I would like you to return to the Dursleys during the summer. There are also a few other things we need to discuss upon your return. I hope your received the gift that I sent you for Christmas. It was something that your father left in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. Albus Dumbledore."

"What'd he send you?" Hermione asked.

"Hang on a tic, I'll show you." Harry dashed upstairs, and donned the cloak, before returning to them.

"What'cha think?"

"Harry? Where are you?"

"Right here. Can't you see me?"

Realization dawned in Hermione's eyes. "He sent you an Invisibility Cloak?"

Harry tugged it off his head, and Mrs. Granger gasped when he appeared. "Yeah. Seems it was my dad's, and he had it with him when they died, for some reason."

"Harry?" It was Mrs. Granger. "If you don't mind my asking, how did your parents die?"

"I'm surprised Hermione hasn't told you," Harry said, glancing at the bookworm in question, "as she seems to know everything else about me." She stuck her tongue out at him again, and his face grew sober. "On Halloween of 1981, Lord Voldemort, AKA He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, AKA the Dark Lord, AKA You-Know-Who, AKA That-Wacko-With-The-Overly-Hyphenated-Aliases, found my parent's house. They were under the Fidelius Charm, which removes any knowledge of something's existence from everyone's mind. The only one allowed to distribute knowledge of the existence of the thing in question is the person who is in charge of the charm, known as the 'Secret-Keeper'. So, if we were to cast a Fidelius Charm here, and made you the Secret-Keeper, Hermione, Mr. Granger, and anyone else on the planet would be unable to find it unless you, or someone else who you told and so knew the secret, told us where it was."

"So how did Lord Whatshisname find them?"

"They were betrayed. By a close friend. Everyone says it was Sirius Black who betrayed the Potters to Voldemort, but…" Harry shrugged. "When I saw the goblins, I found a few Pensieve messages – basically, like a recorded message, with video and audio, made from a memory – that casted doubt on that. My mother said in her message that she suspected Peter Pettigrew, who was another family friend."

"But…didn't Black kill Pettigrew, and twelve other people?"

"Hermione, you must remember, there was only one known witness to the event, and that was Black himself. The Aurors – magical police officers – arrived after everything had happened. So again, I'm taking everything with a grain of salt." Harry sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Voldemort entered the house and killed my father, who was fighting without a wand." The boy had to take a slow breath and closed his eyes. "Then he moved upstairs, blew through the barricade that my mother had made, and killed her when she tried to defend me. Then he turned the wand on me. When he cast the final curse, it backfired for some reason, supposedly killing him."

"Supposedly?"

Harry gave her a long, sad look. "The man may not have been the brightest light in the chandelier, but even he would have thought to have a backup plan. He was obsessed with eliminating any threats to him. Why I posed a threat, I have no idea. But I'm convinced that he's not done here yet."

"Well, that's comforting."

"Yeah. I know."

"So, wait a tick," Mrs. Granger said, a confused look on her face, "if you're not sure about Black's innocence or lack thereof, does that mean that Pettigrew might still be alive?"

"Well, I suppose it's possible that Pettigrew faked his own death and left Sirius holding the bag, but it's hard to tell now, isn't it. However, Black was sent to prison without a trial."

"What?" Mrs. Granger exclaimed.

"It was common practice back then. People were regularly sentenced without trial to life sentences in Azkaban – Wizard prison – when there was little or no evidence against them. However, gits like Lucius Malfoy went free after Voldemort fell because they claimed they were under the Imperius Curse." At Mrs. Granger's questioning look, he added, "Magical mind control, basically. Impossible to prove, but a hefty bribe to the right people got him and many other Death Eaters – Voldemort's band of merry terrorists and blood-purists – off scot-free."

"Harry?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Did you steal some of my textbooks again?"

"I'm not perfect, but who are we kidding, neither are you." Hermione gave him her most mature response again.

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The day before they were to leave for Hogwarts, Harry was looking over his to-do list. He scratched off "Leave Ron Behind" and "Work on Neville", along with "Send Snape Explosive Christmas Candygram". He scanned the rest of the list in the "First Year" section, finding several items undone. Memorizing them, he put the list back in one of the sealed and undetectable pockets on his trunk, before walking downstairs and finding Hermione curled up on the couch with a book.

"Hermione?"

"Yes Harry?"

"I was wondering…was there anything else you needed from Diagon Alley?"

"Mum? Change of plans!"

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Harry tore out the latest sheet of paper from his notebook, sighing angrily in frustration.

"Penny for your thoughts, Harry," Mrs. Granger said, turning the page in her magazine.

"Do you happen to know a way to track something without using a bloodhound or a Native American tracker?"

"Well, that depends. What do you want to track?"

"I was thinking about something a bit smaller than Hedwig." _Well, Pettigrew is a bit smaller, isn't he?_

"Well, I know a way. It is what the Americans call lowjack, which means they attach a small radio tracker to the object in question. You have a receiver that tells you what direction the tracker is in. It can tell you how far, to a degree. It's new technology, so it hasn't been tested much."

_Well, I knew that already, but…_"How exactly do you know this?"

In response, Mrs. Granger held up her magazine. "Electronics World. Has all the new tech in it."

"Mind if I borrow that?"

She closed the magazine and tossed it to him. "Help yourself, Harry."

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Harry closed the door behind him, locking himself into the guest room. "John? Jane? Anybody?"

"Yes?" Harry jumped and spun around, seeing John standing behind him, smoking. "What'cha need, kid?"

"Hi. I need a way to track Pettigrew. Hermione's mom suggested lowjack, but Pettigrew can just take off the tracker. Do you know of anything?"

"Well, nowadays, there isn't much, but in about ten years, with the advances in nanotechnology, the non-magical world comes up with something called Microdots. Basically, it's a bunch of little GPS broadcasters in the paint. Spray it on your car, and you can track it anywhere in the world."

"I don't suppose we could manage to bring that about early?"

A sly gleam entered John's eye. "Well, there is something. If you fund them with whatever they need soon, it could be brought about in about…two years."

"Perfect."

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Harry stood on the Granger's driveway with his trunk and Hedwig's cage next to him. He looked at his watch. Twenty seconds to nine.

"Where is he? I thought he was supposed to be here at nine," Hermione said.

"He's still got twenty seconds. Billy's never been late before." Harry watched the second hand tick closer to nine. As it touched the twelve, Billy's cab screeched to a halt in front of the Granger residence.

"Nine AM, on the nose!" The man crowed, stepping out of his car. "Oh. Would this be Mrs. Granger?"

"Yes, I'm Chloe Granger."

Billy gave her a quick salute, his cigarette between two fingers. "Ma'am. Pleasure to meet you. William Matthews, but my friends call me Billy. Only one who calls me William is my mother."

"Only people who call me Ma'am and live are the people at the supermarket. Call me Chloe." Billy grinned at her. "Now, I was wondering, just how safe is your cab?"

"Well, I've never been in an accident in this car, and I've been driving it for seventeen years. Cheryl here may not look like much, but she is actually a modified Mercedes, and you know how Mercedes loves their airbags. The seatbelts work, the windows are safety glass, and if need be I can go from ninety to zero in nothing flat and not spill your drink. In case you haven't noticed by now," he continued, grinning again, "she's got some magic in her. Cushioning charms, braking charms, and of course, the entire car is charmed to be unbreakable. This thing could get hit by a tank and come out smiling. Of course, the last time I got anywhere near a tank was when I cut across a military base two years ago. Not an experience I want to repeat."

"Oh. Well then," Chloe said, mollified, "carry on then."

Billy stuck his cigarette back in his mouth and gave her a perfect military-style salute- palm out, at attention. "Yes, Ma'am! Er…Chloe!"

"So, where to, kids?" He said as she went back into the house. "Hogwarts direct, or are we making a stop?"

"We're making a stop. The Leaky Cauldron, or if you're feeling particularly saucy, drop us off at Gringotts." The older man grinned as he put the car in gear.

"Kid, I'm ALWAYS feeling saucy."

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The cab dropped out of the air and landed in front of Gringotts, miraculously missing the decrepit witch that had just passed the spot they now occupied. She went on, apparently deaf as the proverbial post.

Billy rolled down his window and checked the location of the car. "Like a glove!" He exclaimed.

Harry and Hermione staggered out. "Man, what a ride." Harry checked his watch, before staring at it a long moment and checking it was still ticking. "Five minutes. I swear, I have to see what he has under that hood." He turned to the cabbie, tossing him a roll of banknotes. "Alright, Billy. We won't be too long, so you can go sicken some poor Muggle on his way to the airport, or you can…circle the block, I guess."

"Right. I'll stick around, kid. Take your time."

The two strode into Gringotts, stopping at a teller's desk. The goblin had a hooked nose to rival Snape's, and looked supremely bored. "May I help you?"

"Yes, we're looking for Teller Griphook."

"Wait a moment, please." The goblin picked up a quill and wrote a quick note onto his blotter, which quickly faded. "He is on his way." Less than a minute later, Griphook appeared.

"Mr. Potter. Good to see you again."

"Good to see you again as well, Griphook. Now, I have a few questions. Might we discuss this in private?"

"Of course. Will Miss Granger be joining us?"

Hermione looked unsure for a moment. "It's okay, Harry, I can go down to Flourish and Blotts…"

"She's staying," Harry said firmly. The goblin nodded, before leading them to a comfortably furnished room.

"Your usual bank statement, Mr. Potter." Harry scanned it, seeing very little different from the first time he had seen it. However, this time, he was looking for something different.

"Griphook, is there any way I could get a map of where these properties are located?" The goblin reached into his desk and pulled out a map of the world.

"Alright, Mr. Potter, I'll start with the international properties."

"International properties?" Hermione said.

"Yes. Outside of Britain, the Potter family owns a house in the south of France, villa in Naples in Italy, a small condominium in Santa Barbara in America, and a hotel in southern India. The hotel has been providing some income that is listed on the statement. Inside Britain, the Potters own an apartment in Hogsmeade Village, a flat in Diagon Alley, the Godric's Hollow residence, and of course, Potter Manor and the surrounding areas in Scotland."

"Wow." Harry was stunned. "Griphook, I know there wasn't much in detail in my parent's will, but was there any mention of the Dursleys?"

"Yes. There were actually two. One by Mr. Potter, bequeathing them with one Knut and a recommendation to, and I quote, "get their heads out of their asses," and one by Mrs. Potter, leaving her sister a thousand pounds and her best wishes." Griphook paused a moment, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Mr. Potter, unless there's anything else, there is a small matter I'd like to discuss with you."

"Anything you can say in front of me, Ms. Granger can hear as well," Harry said resolutely. The goblin nodded.

"Very well. Mr. Potter, while there have always been some strange dealings going on at Gringotts, your parent's will and the matters associated with it have been almost worthy of goblin legend. Mr. Dumbledore bypassed the conditions set in your parent's will after Lord Black was incarcerated, and put you under the care of the," he checked the sheet in front of him, "Dursley family. Now, our records indicate that they are Muggles, and rather intolerant of magic, as well as a bit thickheaded. Off the record, I was wondering if you were there of your own free will, or if you were even given a choice or even notified that there was a choice."

"I wasn't even notified that I had a choice in the matter," Harry said, his jaw hardening. "What did my parent's will say?"

"They said that in case of their death, you were to be placed under the custody of one of the following people, in order: Sirius Orion Black, Remus Lupin, Arthur Weasley, and Minerva McGonagall. The Dursleys were to be a choice of absolute last resort. As all of the above are still alive, there was confusion among us about the matter. However, after Lord Black was incarcerated, Mr. Dumbledore chose to bypass your parent's will and place you directly with the Dursleys."

"Did he say why?"

"Yes. He stated that as Lord Black was no longer capable of taking you in, he was bypassing the will, claiming that Mr. Lupin would not be allowed to, due to his lycanthropy; Mr. Weasley didn't need another child to deal with; and Ms. McGonagall would be far too busy as a teacher at Hogwarts to care for you."

"Is there any way to get me away from the Dursleys?" The goblin smiled, and Harry felt a tingle go down his spine – of excitement or fear, he wasn't sure.

"There is a way. When you retrieved your family rings during your last visit, you started a process that, if continued, would emancipate you and essentially cut out Mr. Dumbledore from all of your dealings. He is not your magical guardian, and never has been. However, since no others have stepped up to take the task, he has been acting as de facto guardian for you."

"What do we need to do to get this process finished?"

"Simple. Just put your thumb on this pad," Griphook held out a small pad, which looked much like an inkpad. Harry pressed his thumb down on it and felt a light suction on his thumb. "Good." The boy was stunned to find a spreading red stain on the pad when he pulled away his thumb. "It pulls a small sample of blood through the pores in your skin. Painless, and very effective." The goblin put the pad back into his desk, and a small sheet scrolled out. "Your heritage has been verified. You are in fact Harry Potter, last scion of the House of Potter."

"Good to know I am who my underwear says I am." Harry saw a slight twitch in the goblin's face, around the edges of his mouth. Not wanting to embarrass the bank by having one of their tellers actually smile, Harry changed the subject. "Griphook, what exactly is the history of the House of Potter in a nutshell?"

"Well, they've been a very well-known and wealthy house for centuries. The men are usually troublemakers early in life, but mellow out when they find a woman they care about. They have a history of being sorted into Gryffindor, and are very powerful wizards. Your father, I believe, was one of the top wizards in his year, and could easily have been a Transfiguration Master."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, one other thing. It is said centuries ago, during the time of Merlin, Gryffindor, and all that, that the Potters, then known as the Peverells, were some of Gryffindor's closest friends and allies. Gryffindor, who purportedly went by the name of Arthur in the Muggle world," Hermione stifled a gasp, "was apparently very fond of the Peverells, and it is said that it is through his posthumous generosity that the Potters gained their immense wealth. Of course," he continued, rubbing his eyes once again, "It is nearly impossible to determine this for sure now, as nobody knows where the bones of Gryffindor lie. This of course only adds to the speculation."

"Figures. Now, what else needs to be done about the emancipation?"

"Absolutely nothing. Once you put on the ring of your family, you'll be fully emancipated and you'll be able to move and live wherever you choose to. If you put on the ring of House Potter and you burst into flame, you'll know something has gone wrong, but aside from that, I wouldn't worry."

"Right. So, phoenix impersonations – bad. One more thing. I am getting rather tired of running around with tons of gold in my pockets. Does Gringotts do debit cards?"

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The pair boarded the train, and Harry excused himself momentarily for a trip to the loo. After relieving the urge, Harry moved down the train to the baggage compartment, finding Hedwig's cage and pulling out a letter. Harry attached the letter to Hedwig's leg, before sending her off in the direction of Gringotts. "That should take care of the investments," He muttered, before heading back to the compartment. He entered to find Hermione tied up and gagged. Harry immediately drew his wand, only to feel a point of wood digging into the base of his skull.

"She was very sloppy. You were too."

"You do realize that the more commonly accepted method of greeting someone is a handshake, not an assault, right?" Harry heard laughter behind him and felt the wandpoint leave his skin, and turned, knocking the wand out of David's hand and leveling his own between the boy's eyes.

He gently pushed the wand away with two fingers. "Point that someplace else, it might go off."

Harry grinned. "Wouldn't want to mess up that pretty face, eh?" There was a muffled sound, and they turned. "Oh! Hermione! I forgot you were here!" As David retrieved his wand, Harry severed the ropes with a quick _Diffindo_ and removed the gag.

"David Mitchell! If you ever do that again, I swear I will not hesitate to…er…to…" She trailed off. "I haven't been around you two enough to get a good enough threat, but I'm working on it!"

"Hi to you too, Hermione. Have a Merry Christmas?" David asked with mirth obvious in his eyes.

"Yes, thank you. I appreciate the bag. You wouldn't believe how much of a pain it is to haul all those books around the castle."

"I can ballpark it. Thanks for the training gear. Does this mean that you'll be joining us in the mornings?"

"Yes. Sorry we begged off joining you for so long. We'll be there the first time back."

"Good. Neville is a regular, and a few other students, like Seamus and the Gruesome Twosome, show up occasionally. A few others from other houses drop by every so often, but they usually do their own thing." He nudged Harry. "Did she enjoy the crackers?"

"Oh yeah, those were loads of fun. Two Santa hats, a bouquet of flowers, a rubber chicken, a tin crown, a small toy Wizard's Chess Set, and a pair of fresh trout."

"That chess set must have been loads of fun."

"Yeah. They keep chasing each other across the house trying to kill each other. I haven't seen the white bishops since they disappeared into the bathroom, and the black knights seem to think they're invincible."

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The train pulled into the station, and the students disembarked, huddling together against the cold. Hagrid appeared, wearing a coat that could probably have covered an elephant.

"Bit chilly, are we?" He called over to them. "Well, come along, we'll get you inside and warmed up."

They trooped into the Great Hall, where a small amount of people was having dinner. Harry spotted Dumbledore with his ever-present twinkle in his eyes, Professor McGonagall, oddly wearing a pair of dark sunglasses at the table, but oddly, Professor Snape's chair was empty.

"You figure Snape died in the soap explosion?" David muttered to Harry as he forked up a piece of roasted potato.

"We can only hope," the younger boy whispered back.

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"Well, goodnight, everyone," David said as he wandered up the stairs. "See you tomorrow, bright and early, down by the lake near Hagrid's cabin."

"When exactly should we get there?"

"Doesn't really matter, I'll be there before you."

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Harry yawned and stretched, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He looked across the dormitory and spotted several empty beds. Something sparked in his mind. "Oh, bugger." He grabbed his trainers and a pair of shorts and bolted for the door.

He arrived down at the lake ten minutes later, dressed and heavily winded. It was easy to find them – a group of people seated by the lake, with David standing among them. Hermione was already there, looking flushed.

"Glad you could join us, Harry," David said. "Now, for anyone who's been under a rock, that's Harry Potter. Stare at him, get it out of your systems, and let's move on." People stared at his scar a moment, before turning back to David. "Good. Now, for anyone who needs introductions: Seamus Finnigan, our only Irishman and a future Hasher; Hermione Granger, Gryffindor bookworm with some serious potential; Neville Longbottom, Herbology expert; Fred and George Weasley, also known as the Gruesome Twosome, or the Masters of Destruction, Spawn of Satan, Sons of the Goat, you get the idea…" There was laughter all around as the twins in question took multiple bows.

"Anyway. This is for you new people. I only have three rules. Rule one: everybody tries their best, and nobody quits. I feel you aren't giving me your all, I'll simply stop teaching you. Got it?" There were murmurs of assent. "Good. Rule two: You do what I tell you to, when I tell you to. People often get hurt training like this, and if I can't count on your help when they do, you're no good to me. Got it?" More murmurs of assent. "Good. Now, rule three: I reserve the right to add any more rules I believe are necessary." There was muted laughter. David stood and stretched. "Alright, everyone, enough talk. Let's see what you got." He turned to Neville, who was closest. "You're first, Neville. Hit me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Hit me. Give me your best shot."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course I am. Now hit me, damnit." Neville hesitated, and David sighed. "Just fucking do it!" Neville lashed out, his fist moving almost too fast to see. David's head snapped to the side, as Neville's wicked right cross connected with his face. The boy took a step back, his eyes wide.

Naturally, Neville freaked. "Merlin, David, are you alright?" They heard a quiet sound, and were shocked when they realized David was laughing.

"Man, what a punch. You got a frigging cannon for an arm, Neville!" David slugged the stunned boy in the shoulder cheerfully, working his jaw. "I think my kids are going to be retarded now. Man, what a hit! Alright," he said, clapping his hands once, "Who's next?" Nobody volunteered.

"Fine then. I guess I'll have to work on the rest of you. Drop and give me a hun… ah shit that'll kill you pussies. Drop and give me fifty!" The group stared at him. "Come on. You lot do know what a push-up is, don't you?" The Muggleborns caught on, and the rest followed suit. David kept count, occasionally throwing in a derisive remark.

Eventually, he shook his head and called for a halt. "Alright, you pukes, up." Harry groaned and pushed himself up to a kneeling position. David had been working them hard, berating them the entire time for being too slow or too weak.

"I'm sore in places I didn't know I had."

"Get used to it. Now on your feet, maggot!" David ordered, sounding like the consummate evil drill sergeant.

Harry groaned again and stood, his knees shaking. David shook his head. "You disappoint me. If the Redcoats were in this sort of shape, it's no frigging wonder we won the Revolutionary War." One of the Muggle-born students glared at him. "Bit of a sore subject, is it? Good. Whatever it takes to get you losers into shape."

"The question is, will we live to be in shape?"

"I don't know. If you are the best that Wizarding Britain has to offer, I am not impressed."

"Oh, stuff it, David," Hermione said, glaring at him. David smiled sweetly at her.

"Now now, _Hermy_, don't get angry. You know that anger is bad. Smile, nod, and shut the hell up. Know your role, and all that." He said jauntily.

"Uh-oh," Harry muttered to Neville.

Hermione snapped. She flung herself at David, and floored him with a surprisingly strong right hook. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD! YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF DOG SHITE! I BET YOU TEABAG DONKEYS WHILE SUCKING COCK FOR A PENNY ON THE CORNER!"

"Yeah, right next to your mother!"

"Oh, dear." Neville replied.

Hermione was now officially past the point of reason. "YOU FUCKING ARSEHAT! I'LL FLENSE THE SKIN FROM YOUR SCREAMING BODY BEFORE I HAVE YOUR STILL TWITCHING CORPSE DEFILED BY DEMONS!"

"Oh God, I think I just had my first erection," Harry said to Neville in awe.

"I'LL TEAR OFF YOUR BALLS AND WEAR YOUR FUCKING HEAD AS A HAT YOU SHEEP BUGGERING COMMUNIST!"

"You're friends with this girl?" Seamus said, his eyes wide with fear.

David smiled happily and stood, brushing dirt off his jacket. "There now, don't you feel better?"

Hermione blinked. She nodded shyly.1

"Good. Now, as for the rest of you," David said, glaring at the others, "If you don't have the balls to stand up to me, you definitely don't have the balls to stand up to anyone who means you any harm."

"Well, how the hell were we supposed to know that was what you wanted?" Seamus said.

The boy in question spun, his eyes flashing with anger. "Who gives a flying fuck about what I want?" David retorted. "It's about what YOU want. If you want to kick my ass because I am working you too hard, then by all means, do so! Grow a pair and stand up to yourselves, for Chrissakes!" He took a deep breath. "Okay, everyone, take the rest of the afternoon off. Relax, take a nap, just don't do too much." The others began to leave, muttering. "Oh. And Hermione?" The bookworm in question turned around. "If you ever want to do any of those things you just mentioned, just lemme know, and I'll clear an afternoon for you."

Hermione turned bright red. "Maybe some other time, David."

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As Harry gathered his things to leave, Professor McGonagall called out, "Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, stay behind a moment, please."

The two waited until the remainder of the students cleared out. McGonagall slowly removed her sunglasses, and Hermione gasped.

"Professor, are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine," She said slowly. "Just wanted to thank you two for the Christmas gift. Things have seemed a lot less stressful since then, y'know?"

"Yes, Professor." There was silence for a moment as McGonagall apparently stared into space. "Professor? May we go?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Sure. Have a nice day."

They left, to find David standing outside the classroom. "She alright?"

"Yeah, but I think she's still stoned from the catnip. She didn't even assign homework!"

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Harry stepped into Potions, finding that Professor Snape was choosing to keep his face down towards the desk. He looked remarkably clean, proof that he had indeed received their 'gift'. He looked up, and Hermione gasped. His face was bright red – not the red of a blush or of anger, but that of a rash. A really bad rash. Like the kind one gets from staying out in the sun too long and then rolling around in poison ivy.

"I would like to know who sent me the soap bomb this Christmas," He said, his voice low and deadly. "Whoever it was should know that it was a tasteless prank that is causing me daily pain. During my years at Hogwarts, I was hit with a jinx that causes my skin to become irritated on contact with air. Because of that, I was forced to cover my skin in various substances to keep it from burning, which not only ruined my social life, but also is a daily hassle. If I find out who did this, the person will face severe discipline."

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A/N: This was a bit of a filler chapter, and I really intended it to be a bit longer, but it was getting a bit bloated as it is. Don't worry, that just makes it that much easier to write the next chapter.

1 -Inspired by (almost stolen from) Chapters 12 and 9 of f KafkaExMachina's "Accio Brain!"

Two movie quotes in this chapter. Anyone?

-Lightning


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: All characters so far except for David Mitchell, William Matthews, and anybody else that didn't appear in the Harry Potter books are the property of J.K. Rowling. I'm not her. Therefore, no cash is being made.

Description: Harry goes back after the final battle and decides to give things a shove in the direction he wants them to go. Now, this isn't a "Do-Over" fic per se, it's more of a "What the **** was that? Let's try that one again!" fic.

A/N: I feel like I owe my readers an explanation – I've been really busy between college and real life kicking me in the teeth, but that's not the only reason I haven't been writing. Aside from a massive writer's block on everything to do with Harry Potter, my girlfriend hooked me into writing a Pokemon story, of all things. I convinced her to post it on this website, and her penname is Ryelove, so she should be easy to find. Then I started writing one of my own, which can't be posted on this website because it's rather explicit. So, in between that, college, and my own independent work, I managed to get out another chapter for Murphy's Law.

This Chapter: Harry sets about undoing some of the damage that Dumbledore has done and David gets fleshed out more. In the meantime, it's time to wrap up first year.

Chapter 8

Harry drummed his fingers on the table, waiting for the inevitable.

"Something wrong, Harry?"

"I'd give it about seven seconds before I get a note from Dumbledore telling me to meet him in his office after dinner." Everyone held their breath for the next few moments until a note appeared in front of Harry's plate with a small flash of flame. "See?" He picked it up and read it aloud. "Mr. Potter, please come to my office at eight PM tonight. The gargoyle will let you in. Albus Dumbledore." He sighed and crumpled the parchment. "Well, might as well get my ducks in a row."

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Harry strode up the stairs to Dumbledore's office, knocking at the door. He heard a "come in, Harry," and entered, shutting the door behind him. _Don't be hostile, don't be hostile, don't be hostile…_

"Thank you for coming, Harry."

_Don't be hostile…_ "I didn't have a whole lot of choice in the matter, sir." _Ah, bugger._

Fortunately, Dumbledore didn't seem to notice. "I asked you to be here tonight because I believe it is time to explain to you why you must return to your relatives during the summer."

"I guessed. There wasn't much reason you would have called me here otherwise, since I doubt you've figured out who sent you those socks."

Dumbledore looked startled. Harry celebrated silently at getting one over on the Headmaster. "That was you?"

"Well, the Weasley twins gave me a few pointers on the spells, but yes, the idea was mine."

"Well, that will be ten points to Gryffindor for superior spell work and innovation. And for giving a Headmaster a good present."

"Well, one can never have too many socks," Harry said, immediately feeling the need to wash his mouth out with soap. "Anyway, sir, you were saying?"

"Oh. Yes. Umm…lemon drop?"

"No thank you, sir. I'd like to know why you're going to try to make me go back to the Dursley's house this summer."

"It's for your own safety, Harry," Dumbledore said sagely, twinkling like mad.

"You'll have to do better than that, Professor."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, unless you can give me a good reason, I simply won't return to the Dursley's house this summer. Or any summer. Or ever."

"Harry, you must return to your relatives," Dumbledore said, starting to look slightly agitated. Harry gave himself a mental pat on the back for cracking his normally passive façade.

"No, I _must_ eat. I _must_ drink. I _must_ from time to time play a practical joke on some unsuspecting sod who doesn't think they'll be targeted. There is no _must _concerning the Dursleys."

"Harry, as your magical guardian, I can compel you to return to your relatives."

"Well, you've got me there," Harry said, and Dumbledore seemed to relax. "Well, actually, you would have me there, _if_ you were actually my magical guardian."

"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore's face bore a look that seemed to say, 'how dare you question me?' Harry felt another mental probe slide off his Occlumency shields and remained impassive. Let the old man think it was a side effect of Voldemort's curse.

"You're not my guardian, Professor. The goblins told me that nobody had ever legally taken guardianship of me, and so you simply took over making the decisions in my life. People deferred to you, as you apparently believed that you were my guardian, and they believed what you said. However, you are not, have never been – and never will be – my magical guardian."

"Harry…" Dumbledore removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, before donning them again. "When your mother sacrificed herself to save you from Lord Voldemort, she invoked ancient magic that shielded you from Voldemort's curse. That magic stays strong so long as you continue to return to the Dursley residence each summer."

"I fail to see how the two could possibly be related," Harry said, mildly surprised Dumbledore had given up that information that easily.

"They are, Harry. You'll simply have to trust me."

Harry sighed, and stood. "Professor, I'm sensing that you won't tell me this reason because you simply don't have one. And without one, I refuse to return to the Dursleys."

"Harry…"

"And another thing," Harry went on, beginning to slowly pace the room. "If Voldemort's dead, why do I need protection? Surely, all his followers were rounded up?"

"We can never be sure," Dumbledore started. Harry cut him off.

"So why is everyone convinced that he's dead, then?" Harry shook his head. "Shoddy work, if someone assumes that. You ever hear the saying, 'no death without a body'?" He went to the door. "Good night, Headmaster."

Dumbledore waited until the boy left before sighing heavily and turning to the portraits. "Why can't that boy listen to me?"

"Simple," Phineas Black's portrait quipped, crossing his arms. "He's got some common sense."

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Harry stepped off the last step at the base of the stairs leading to the Headmaster's office.

"So, how'd that go?" Harry jumped.

"Damnit, David! Enough of that! Quit sneaking up on me!"

David grinned. "Not until you learn some situational awareness. How'd it go?"

"I'm not going back to the Dursleys, that's for sure."

"Where will you go?" Hermione asked as they began walking back to the Gryffindor Tower.

"Well, I'm thinking that during the summer, I'll have a few talks with the goblins about having those properties that my parents owned warded and possibly put under the Fidelius, if we can find my mum's old notes. Since my parents died, the wards might have weakened or fallen. I think I might move around a bit, maybe check out which of the properties are nicest and which ones I'd want to hide out in." Harry gave Hermione a mischievous grin. "You never know when you'll need to go to ground after a prank gone horribly wrong."

"Too true," David mused.

"David?" Hermione asked, quirking an eyebrow. "When exactly have you needed to go to ground?"

"Erm…um…who we talking about?" David asked after a long moment. "How'd things go with Snape?"

"Oh, not well," Harry said, biting back a laugh. "He's searching for whoever sent him that soap bomb."

"Who's idea was the soap bomb anyway?" David asked.

"Mine," Harry said gloomily.

"Well, that fucking backfired, didn't it?"

"David! Language!" Hermione scowled at David.

"L-A-N-G-U-A-G-E," David rattled off, giving her a cheeky grin, "And I think that if people knew about his condition, he wouldn't get nearly as much trouble about being greasy. And if we had known, we wouldn't have done it."

"True…maybe that's the reason he's so rude," Hermione said, deep in thought.

David shook his head. "I doubt it."

"Why?"

"Well, I've met too many people who claimed to be rude for some reason or another. I came to the conclusion that many people are simply dicks."

"David!" Hermione said.

"Alright! They're just jerks. Happy?" David exhaled sharply through his nose. "My mother doesn't harass me about my language as much as you do!" Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.

"David, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," Hermione began.

"Twelve inches," David replied automatically.

"Erm…what?" The bushy-haired brunette bookworm asked, turning slightly pink.

"My wand," David said, as if it was obvious. "Twelve inches long, oak, core of dead babies. Sometimes I swap out the core for dragon heartstring. What did you think I was talking about?"

Harry snorted, while Hermione blushed. "Erm…nothing. That wasn't what I was going to ask you about, though."

"Well then, what were you going to ask me about?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but what's an American doing in a British school?"

"In a nutshell? American schools blo-" he paused a moment looking pointedly at Hermione, "American schools are terrible. Ever since what-his-name took office back in 1992, the school systems haven't been able to do anything right."

"Weren't American Presidential elections around then held in 1989 and 1993?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, the Muggle ones. Magical American Presidential elections are held every four years, but there's no term limits and they're offset by two years from the Muggle ones, so things don't get mixed up. Last bit of common sense that Americans showed, in my opinion," David replied. He scratched his chin. "And as an American, I seem to have a unique perspective on the matter, don't'cha think?" Harry and Hermione sniggered. "Seriously, though, American schools haven't quite been the same. So when it turned out I was magical – my older brother isn't a wizard – my parents figured it was wiser to send me here instead of any of the schools in America."

"Why Hogwarts, though?" Harry asked, scratching his head. He'd actually been wondering this himself, since he knew David hadn't been there the first time around.

"Well, it's the best – and only – magical school in Britain. Australia was farther away, and I don't speak any foreign language well enough to go to a school that doesn't speak English."

"At any rate," Harry said, "I'm glad you're here. Who knows how things would have ended up had we not become friends." _I do, and it was a crappy experience all around_.

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Harry was sitting in front of the fire later that night reading a book, when he felt a mental itch at the back of his mind.

"What did I forget…" he murmured, staring into the fire. A log crackled, sending up a tongue of flame, and Harry's eyes bugged out. "Oh, bollocks…"

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"Oh dear," David said, looking at the baby dragon on the table.

"Hagrid," Hermione began desperately, "this thing-"

"His name's Norbert," Hagrid said stubbornly.

"Fine, Norbert. Norbert here could easily burn down your house."

"Nah, he won't," Hagrid chuckled as the baby dragon hiccupped sparks across his tea set. "Just needs a bi' o' raisin', is all."

"Hagrid, with a bit of raising," David said, keeping his distance, "Norbert over there will be big enough to eat most of the students. And while _we_ might know that he won't, they might not." The boy pressed himself farther into the wall, trying to put more distance between him and the living flamethrower.

"Hagrid, you've got to get rid of it," Hermione pleaded.

"Him," Hagrid insisted.

"Him!" Hermione threw up her hands and giving a choked cry of frustration.

"We might not have to get rid of the dragon," Harry said. The entire time, he had been sitting in the corner, silently watching the proceedings.

"What are you talking about, Harry?" David asked incredulously.

"Well, I see two options. We either try to smuggle baby Norbert out of here, risking getting caught and breaking Hagrid's heart in the process, or…" Harry stroked his chin, silently cursing his prepubescent lack of facial hair. "We make Norbert here legitimate."

"Come again? Legitimate?" David asked. "How?"

"We make him no longer a secret and make it seem like he's supposed to be here," Harry said cryptically.

"But to do that, we'd need to…" Hermione trailed off and stared at Harry. "You're joking."

"Nope," Harry said. "We go to Dumbledore."

"Well, yeh best do it fast," Hagrid said darkly.

"Why?" Hermione asked. In response, Hagrid pointed, and they saw a flash of blond hair disappearing from the window.

"Oh, hell," Harry groaned. "Malfoy. Now it's a bloody race."

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The trio dashed along the halls of Hogwarts, hoping to get to Dumbledore's office before Malfoy made it to Snape's. It was slow going – David kept tripping, having to run in a low crouch to keep from hoisting the Invisibility Cloak too high over the other two. They made a turn on the fifth floor, and David stumbled again, falling and cracking his head against the stone plinth a suit of armor stood on.

"Crap," Harry swore, flipping his friend onto his back. David stared at him, blinking hard and clutching his nose, a trickle of blood seeping out between his fingers. The boy tried to stand, but crumpled immediately. The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, and Hermione looked out from under the Cloak, fear clear on her face. Harry wordlessly pointed at a door nearby, and Hermione ran through it, Harry dragging David through as Hermione quietly closed it.

"Help me," Harry grunted, struggling under the weight of the older boy. Hermione grabbed David's other arm and the two dragged their friend over to a corner, Harry grabbing the cloak and holding it up in front of them just as Filch opened the door.

The caretaker swept his lantern around the room, sweeping it over the trio. Harry closed his eyes and swallowed quietly, praying that Filch wouldn't see the tips of his fingers holding up the cloak.

Filch continued to look around the room, thankfully not moving from the door. Harry could hear his heart pounding in his ears, so loud that he was positive Filch could hear it.

Finally, the caretaker gave a disgruntled 'hmph' and closed the door, moving on down the hall. They could hear him grumbling to himself, as if he was upset that he hadn't caught anyone.

"Harry…" Hermione whispered.

"One second," Harry replied, examining David's head. Quickly, he healed the boy's nose, before Vanishing the bloody mess on his face and hands with a few quick spells.

"Thanks," David muttered, prodding his nose.

"Now, what's wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked, turning around.

"What is this thing?" Hermione asked, looking at the Mirror of Erised.

"Well, just a shot in the dark," David said, standing up and weaving slightly, "but I'd say a mirror." In the dark, both of them missed Harry's wince. He'd really intended to not encounter the Mirror at all this time around. He remembered how long he'd spent gazing wistfully at the images of his family.

"Thanks, David," Hermione said dryly. "I don't know what we'd do without you."

"Die, probably," David replied, walking over to the Mirror. "Is it just me, or are the words on the top backwards?"

"I show not your face but your hearts desire," Hermione read off. "Is that the most mysterious way they could say it?"

"I guess so," Harry said, almost afraid to look in the Mirror. "Why put that up there, though?"

Hermione looked in the Mirror and started. Spinning around, she looked behind her wildly, before turning back to the Mirror. "Guys?"

"What?"

"Step over here a minute?" Hermione said shakily. The two stepped next to her. "Do you see me with lots of books?"

"No…" Harry said, staring at the Mirror. He saw himself as he was before his jump back, with Voldemort dead at his feet. Around him, he could see his friends, alive. In the background, Harry was sure he could see his family. "I see my family," the Boy-Who-Lived went on, choosing his words carefully. "I don't know why, but I do."

"David?" Hermione asked. "What do you see?" David didn't answer.

"This mirror shows what we truly desire," Harry said quietly.

"Interesting," Hermione said, reaching out and touching the Mirror.

"Guys?" David said. "I realize this is pretty damn interesting, but…"

"That's right!" Hermione yelped. "Hagrid! Let's go!"

"Back under the Cloak," Harry urged.

"Forget it," David replied, pointing his wand at his shoes. "_Silencio_. I'll stick to the shadows. Now, let's go!"

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They finally reached Dumbledore's office, and Harry spoke to the gargoyle.

"Excuse me, but would you mind telling Professor Dumbledore that Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and David Mitchell would like to see him?" The gargoyle stared at him for a moment, and Harry felt a bead of sweat trickle down his neck.

Finally, the gargoyle stepped to one side, and they hurried up the stairs. Harry knocked on the door, and they heard Dumbledore call "Come in, Harry." The three entered the office. "Is there something I can do for you, Harry? It is rather late." The Headmaster of Hogwarts was sipping at a cup of tea and working on some paperwork.

"Sir, we don't have much time," Harry spoke quickly. "Hagrid's got a baby dragon."

Dumbledore set down his quill and massaged his forehead. "Oh dear."

"Yeah, that's what I said," David muttered. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

"Anyway," Harry continued, "obviously, the dragon can't stay in his hut. That's a forest fire waiting to happen."

"What do you suggest?"

"Well, we came up with two options," Harry said. "We could either smuggle Norbert – the dragon – out of Hogwarts, possibly getting caught in the process, or we could make the dragon a part of the school."

"I see," Dumbledore murmured. "Why?"

"Why what?" Harry asked.

"Why should we make the dragon a part of the school?" Dumbledore asked. "I'm not rejecting your idea, merely questioning your reasoning."

"Well, as it is, Malfoy spotted the dragon in Hagrid's hut and is probably bringing Professor Snape here as we speak. Snape will-"

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore corrected.

"Right," Harry said dismissively. "Professor Snape will probably insist that you sack Hagrid for bringing such a dangerous creature in here."

"I wouldn't," Dumbledore said flatly.

"I know that you wouldn't," Harry said. "But it could cause trouble if he raised a stink about it. So, if we smuggled the dragon out, we run the risk of being caught and having to go through a lot of trouble to get it out and to find someplace to send it. But if we make the dragon, say, a protector of the school, a guardian of sorts, we not only avoid all that trouble-"

"But Hagrid is less likely to get something more dangerous," Dumbledore finished.

"Right," Harry continued. "Give the man a pet. Granted, a fire-breathing pet that'll be flying soon and will eat Hagrid's weight in raw meat, but a pet. All things considered, a dragon's probably better than a chimera or a nundu." _And a hell of a lot better than a Blast-Ended Skrewt._

"I see," Dumbledore repeated, steepling his fingers.

"You don't even have to decide right now," Harry said desperately. "But when Professor Snape comes in here in a few moments, please, just tell him you knew about the dragon and that we've been working with him and you on this project." As Harry finished, there was a knock at the door, and the color drained from Hermione's face.

Wordlessly, Dumbledore pointed at the corner by Fawkes' perch, and the three quickly got under the Invisibility Cloak. David crouched, the hem of the cloak covering the tips of his trainers as he did.

"Come in," Dumbledore called as soon as they were safely invisible.

"Albus," Snape snarled as he entered the room, practically livid. "I hope you do realize what Hagrid has done now?" The younger man was far less red, having apparently soothed the irritation of his skin, and his usual level of greasiness was restored.

"Would you care to explain, Severus?" the Headmaster asked serenely.

"The oaf has a bloody dragon in his hut!" Snape snapped. "Not only that, but those three miscreants – Granger, Mitchell, and that arrogant snot Potter – are constantly out after hours, helping him raise it under your nose!"

"I know, Severus," Dumbledore said.

Snape apparently didn't hear him. "I want him sacked, and those three expelled immediately!"

"Severus," Dumbledore said, trying to get his Potion Master's attention.

"Unbelievable, that that bloody idiot would be stupid enough to bring a dragon into this school, and then have the gall to get those three brats to help him…"

"Severus," Dumbledore repeated.

"That arrogant child thinks he can deceive me! Well, he's wrong!"

"Severus," Dumbledore said once more, his tone beginning to grow more insistent.

"I'll have that punk out of this school by morning! He's just like his father, thinking he can break the rules whenever he –what do you mean, you know?" Harry bit down on the skin between his thumb and index finger, trying to keep from bursting out laughing at the look on Snape's face.

"I've known all along that Hagrid has a dragon," Dumbledore said. "I approved his getting it. I also approved Mr. Mitchell, Mr. Potter, and Ms. Granger working on the project with him."

"Why on earth would you bring a dragon into a school full of children, Albus?" Snape asked incredulously.

"Severus, you know as well as I do that the Dark is growing more powerful. We lost valuable allies in the last war. The Ministry is growing complacent. And I am no longer at my prime. He'd have three of his greatest targets in one place – you, who is now publicly known to have operated as a spy; myself, of course; and his greatest target of all."

"Potter," Snape spat.

Dumbledore nodded. "Your animosity towards young Harry's late father aside, the Dark Lord has a reason we both know of to go after him. If Voldemort were to hit Hogwarts with even a fraction of his former strength, we'd fold like wet parchment. Even without the werewolves, giants, and Dementors on his side as he had last time, there would be terrible loss of life."

"So the dragon is going to be…a guardian?" Snape asked, his mouth slightly open. Dumbledore nodded again. "Unbelievable. Albus, that's amazing. How on earth did you get your hands on a dragon?"

"Why don't we talk about it over lunch tomorrow?" Albus suggested. "It is rather late tonight, and the story is rather fascinating." Snape nodded, and stood to leave. "Oh, and Severus?"

"Hm?" Snape turned, his hand on the doorknob.

"I do expect Mr. Malfoy to be punished for being out of bed after hours," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling over his spectacles.

"I see," Snape replied quietly, leaving.

Dumbledore waited a moment, sipping idly at his tea. "You three still there?"

Harry pulled the Cloak off them. "Yes, Professor."

"Five points to Gryffindor, for daring and courage under stress," Dumbledore sipped his tea. "Maybe you three should have been in Hufflepuff. You do have extraordinary loyalty to Hagrid."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said proudly.

"You can take five points too, sir," Harry joked, "for a masterful performance as Headmaster."

"That did go rather well, didn't it," Dumbledore mused thoughtfully.

"It did," Hermione said. "Anything else, sir?"

"What exactly _were_ you three doing out that late?" Dumbledore asked.

"Seeing Hagrid," Harry said truthfully. Then he began to tell half-truths. "We didn't expect to come across the dragon and had to think about what to do. It got late, and by the time we decided to come to you, it was dark. Then it became a race when Malfoy decided he'd spy on us to try to get us in trouble, and we had to hurry up here."

Dumbledore nodded, accepting the story. "I see."

"Anything else, sir?" Harry asked as Hermione yawned widely.

"How'd he get the dragon egg?" Dumbledore asked.

"Um…well…er…" Harry stared at him a moment. "Who we talking about?"

Dumbledore gave him a knowing smile and pointed to the door. "Good night, you three."

"Goodnight, Professor," they echoed.

"Stay out of trouble!" He called as they exited the room.

"You know us," Harry called back over his shoulder.

"That's what worries me," Dumbledore muttered to himself, sipping his tea.

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"So, Hagrid," Harry said, draining the last of his tea from the gallon-sized mug and hoping his bladder didn't explode, "we went to Dumbledore and told him the situation, and he's considering letting you keep Norbert." Hagrid whooped and pulled Harry into a hug, and Harry groaned as he felt his ribs creak. "Hagrid…air…need oxygen…" The gamekeeper set Harry down, and the Boy-Who-Lived took a deep breath, feeling his lungs re-inflate. "No guarantees yet, but we'll see. From what he told Snape, he's actually seriously considering it."

"Good," Hagrid said. "This place could do with a bit o' livenin' up."

"Speaking of livening up, Hagrid," David said curiously, "What's in the third-floor corridor?"

"I don't know," Hagrid said, speaking too quickly.

"Yes you do," Harry said, fighting a smile.

"Well, I do, but whatever's in there, it's safe behind Fluffy," Hagrid said confidently.

"Who's Fluffy?" Hermione asked.

"Er…I shouldn't have said that," Hagrid replied.

"But you did," Harry said, tugging at his sleeve. It was like trying to drag a circus tent. "Who's Fluffy?"

"Oh, fine…" Hagrid acquiesced. "He's m'dog."

"I thought Fang was your dog?"

"Just because there's only one man doesn't mean 'e can only have one dog," Hagrid shot back.

"True," Harry replied. "But what's he guarding?"

"I'm tellin' yeh, there's no need ter worry 'bout it," Hagrid said. "The Stone's perfectly safe."

"Stone?" Harry latched onto the word, feeling a rush of victory.

"Out!"

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"Stone…stone…" Harry mumbled, flipping through various books. One had to keep up appearances, after all. It would be so much easier to just tell them, but that would lead to pressing questions that he wasn't quite ready to answer. "Any luck?"

"Nada," David said, closing his book. "I know of one, but it's supposed to be a myth."

"That's what I thought about magic, until about nine months ago," Harry said. "Spill it."

"Okay. Sparing you the fairy tale, there's supposed to be this artifact called the Resurrection Stone. Apparently, it can bring people back from the dead. However, it's never been found, and many people doubt it even exists."

"That's…interesting," Hermione said, setting a heavy book that Harry vaguely recognized down on the table. "But I have a better idea."

"Do tell," David said. "My idea was a bit on the ridiculous side."

"The Philosopher's Stone," Hermione said. "It not only can produce the Elixir of Life, which can extend your life without limits…"

"But it can also transmute any metal into gold," David finished. "Alchemists have been trying to figure it out for centuries, some even say millennia. However, the man that created one recently – well, relatively recently – was…what was his name…Faldwell? Flamel?"

"That's right, Nicolas Flamel," Hermione said. "You know your history."

"I know my treasure," David corrected. "Flamel's British, I know that."

"If I remember correctly," Harry recalled, "Flamel worked with Dumbledore. Not on the Philosopher's Stone, but they've worked together."

"How do you know that?" David asked

Harry fished in his pocket and pulled out a Chocolate Frog Card. "Says so on Dumbledore's card."

David quickly scanned the card's text. "Son of a gun. So it does. Dumbledore is particularly famous for a whole lot of bullcrap, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel."

"We need more information about this Stone, why it's here, what's guarding it," Harry said, suppressing a smile at David's summation of Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog card.

"Where do we go for that information?" Hermione asked. "We can't just ask Dumbledore. Or McGonagall. Or any of the rest of the staff. They'd go batty."

"Wait, wait," David said. "Let me guess. It starts with an H, and ends with a D."

"That's right," Harry said. "Put it all together, and it spells Hagrid."

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"I'm not telling you any more than I already have," Hagrid said gruffly, only partially opening the door.

"Hagrid, it's alright, don't worry," Harry said.

"I'm not tellin' yeh anything more'n I already have!"

"You won't get in trouble!"

"No more!" Hagrid barked. After delivering this line, he began to shut the door. Harry slid his foot into the gap, and stepped on his own heel, leaving the shoe behind and bracing the heavy oak door open. If Hagrid didn't notice his foot there, they'd be calling him "Stumpy" for the rest of his Hogwarts career.

"We know about the Stone!" Harry said, loudly. "We know why it's here!" They heard Hagrid sigh, before he opened the door again.

"Alright, alright. Yeh best come in."

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"But why bring the Stone here?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't wherever this Flamel character had it be safer than here?"

"Obviously not," Hermione said quietly. "I mean, if he moved it, he had to have had a reason for it, right?" Harry shrugged. "I mean, there's no place safer than Hogwarts."

"I can think of a few places," Harry muttered. "A safe deposit box in Geneva, maybe. Or the Moon. Neither of those places has inquisitive children or trolls running around, last time I checked."

"Having flashbacks?" David asked, managing a straight face.

"Got some serious post-traumatic stress disorder here," Harry let out an over-the-top sigh. "It's not every day a boy my age has to go into a girls' bathroom."

"That reminds me," David said, turning to Hermione. "Do all girls' bathrooms come standard with trolls?"

"Focus, boys," Hermione was obviously fighting a smile. "Now, who would want to steal the Stone?"

Harry stared at her. "Well, I think we can safely establish that Dumbledore isn't entirely convinced that Voldemort is dead." Hagrid cringed, but Harry ignored it. "Remember, he told me when he tried to convince me to go back to the Dursleys."

"I see," Hermione said slowly. "You figure he could be trying to get his hands on it?"

"Well, the man obviously didn't want to die, if he was willing to off a kid over it," David replied. "It's a safe bet that if he knew where it would be, he'd make a play for it."

"But how would he know it was here?" Harry asked, knowing the answer.

"Well, it's possible he has someone on the inside," David reasoned.

"Impossible!" Hagrid said. "Nobody at Hogwarts'd turn against Dumbledore."

"Hagrid, we can't rule out any possibilities," Harry said sadly. "I mean, people thought…" he paused and grimaced, "You-Know-Who, was dead, but Dumbledore obviously thinks otherwise. So it's possible that he still has people in Wizarding society."

Hagrid sighed. "Fine. But why does that have ter mean that the Stone's here?"

"Hagrid," Harry looked at him pointedly. "I was there when you emptied vault 713." Hagrid stammered for a moment.

"If Dumbledore is involved, it'll end up at Hogwarts eventually," Hermione added.

"So what do we do?" David asked. "What's the move?"

"Take it to Dumbledore," Harry said. "Maybe we can convince him to move it, if we hit him with our evidence."

"You really think you can talk him into moving it?" Hermione asked.

"I didn't say talk to him about our evidence," Harry said.

"Law of Physical Physics Applied?" David asked. Harry nodded.

"Law of What?" Hermione asked, curious.

"Law of Physical Physics Applied. Hit the sucker and see what happens," Harry said. "Like I said, I didn't say talk to him about our evidence." Hefting the heavy tome Hermione had set down, Harry judged the weight and nodded approvingly. "I said hit him with it."

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"He's _gone_?" Harry echoed.

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time – "

"But this is important!"

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?"

"Look," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor — it's about the Philosopher's Stone —"

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up.

"How do you know —?" she spluttered.

"Professor, I think that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"Just like nobody could possibly survive a Killing Curse, right?" Harry shot back.

"Watch your tone, Mr. Potter!"

Harry growled and stormed off, Hermione and David apologizing and then following close behind.

"So, now what?" David asked as Harry finally stopped.

Harry took a slow breath. "We have to go in ourselves."

Hermione looked shocked. "But McGonagall said there was no way it could be stolen!"

Harry glared at her. "You mind if I think for myself?" Hermione looked hurt, and David frowned as he went on. "Look, Hermione, I'm sorry if I don't absolutely trust the teachers like you do. I don't have a whole hell of a lot of faith in humanity."

"Harry…I'm sorry…" As tears began to well up in Hermione's eyes, Harry realized his mistake.

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry said quietly. "I'm sorry I upset you."

"It's…it's alright, Harry," Hermione replied, wiping her eyes. "Why are you so sure he's going after it?"

"Call it a hunch," Harry replied, frustration clear on his face. Hermione and David thought it was from dealing with McGonagall, but Harry's tension this time stemmed from debating how much he could tell his friends. "Look, remember that article in the Prophet about the Gringotts robbery?" Hermione nodded. Harry quickly filled them in on the events of that day, focusing on the vault containing the small package that Hagrid had taken. "The only thing I could think of that would need to be 'safer at Hogwarts' is the Stone," Harry finished.

"I see," David said. "As little sense as that makes, it makes perfect sense."

Harry stared at him for a moment. "Right," the Boy-Who-Lived confirmed slowly.

"Well, then. What do we do?" Hermione asked.

Harry pushed the heel of his palm against his scar, feeling it prickle. "I'm not sure. One thing's for certain, though. We're going to have to deal with whatever protection the teachers have put on it."

"Well, we could ask," David said.

"Ask who?" Harry demanded scornfully. "McGonagall? She wasn't too thrilled that we even knew about it."

David sighed. "Look, Harry. There's a lot that you don't know about this place. Come with me."

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Harry sat down, stunned. "I'm surprised I didn't notice this before," he murmured.

"What?" David asked, confused.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing." Mentally, he berated himself for almost giving away too much. "We need to gear up. Going to need some special tools for these."

"Well then," David said, scanning the list. "There's only one place to go."

Hermione blinked, looking between the two. Neither of them said anything, waiting as Hermione's blood pressure slowly rose. "You mind letting me in on the joke?" She finally snapped.

"The Gruesome Twosome," Harry said with a grin.

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"Harry, Harry, Harry," Fred and/or George said, fiddling with a swatch of a strange, shiny material. "What can we do for you?"

"Some more of those remote-detonated fireworks, maybe?" George and/or Fred added, removing a jeweler's loop from his eye. "Those were a big hit."

"No, we've got something else in mind," Harry said, setting the list down on the table. "Can you do this?" As Fred and/or George looked at the list, Hermione tried to examine the material they had been working on. It wasn't easy, considering one of the twins was sitting on it.

"I find that question highly insulting," one of the redheads sniffed.

"Sorry, chum, should have known," Harry snickered. "How long?"

"I don't know," the second twin said. "This is a big job."

"Guys," David said. "This is kinda important."

"In that case, two hours," the second twin said, rolling up the list and looking at Hermione. "Can I help you with something, Granger?"

"Yeah," the brunette growled, tugging on the fabric. "What is this stuff?"

"Oh, that?" He replied, standing up. Hermione stumbled back, the material in her hands. "New project. Its material that stretches to several times its own size but that can retain its shape. Watch." Each twin took a firm grip on one end of the fabric and stepped back slowly, stretching the material out. "It gets harder after a certain amount of stretching," one of the twins called from across the room, "but it breathes well." Letting go, the material quickly zipped back to its original size.

Harry leaned over to David. "Is it just me, or did they just reinvent spandex?" The older boy shrugged.

"Well, we'll leave you to your work, boys," Harry said, dragging Hermione out of the room as David shut the door to the twins' workshop behind them.

"Think they're going to blow themselves up someday?" David muttered.

"Only question is how many people they'll take out in the explosion," Harry replied.

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"Harry?" Harry looked up from the book he wasn't reading to spot Neville. "Got a moment?"

"Sure," Harry said, closing the book. He hadn't been able to read anyway. His stomach was churning, and it was a constant struggle to keep his hands from shaking. "What's on your mind, Nev?"

"What are you planning?" The boy said bluntly.

"Er…what?"

"Harry…"

Harry surreptitiously glanced around. "Not the place, Neville. Come with me."

Within a minute, they were relatively safe in the first-years dormitory. "Alright. First off, how do you know?"

"It wasn't difficult," Neville said. "You sit there looking at the same page for two hours, David's polishing his wand – which he only does when he's nervous – and Hermione's a twitchy wreck. Something's up. Since none of you look sick, I'm assuming that you're planning instead of reacting to something. What's going on?"

Harry was silent for a moment. Again, he had underestimated the blonde boy. It was going to be a little more difficult to do so now – the boy had put on at least ten kilos since the start of the year, all of it muscle. The more noticeable difference was in his stature – whatever David had been doing to him to build his confidence, it was working.

Neville went on, taking Harry's contemplative silence for hesitation. "I'm not going to stop you. I want in."

That surprised him. "Really? Why? You don't even know what it is yet."

Neville sighed. "You guys were the first to take me seriously. The first to give me a chance. If you'll have me, I'd like to help out."

Harry thought for a moment, weighing the options. "Alright." In a few brief sentences, he spelled out the situation. Neville turned increasingly green, until Harry was sure he could have held the Slytherin colors up to the boy's face and had them match. "Still want to come?" Neville stared for a moment. "Nobody would blame you if you didn't want to." Neville shook for a moment, before steadying himself and nodding. "Alright then. Be down in the common room at midnight."

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"Harry," George said, carrying a rucksack. "Here's the stuff you asked for."

"Oh good," Harry said, lifting the flap and peeking inside, before nodding affirmatively. "This'll do nicely. Thanks, mate."

"Harry," George said uncertainly. "That's some pretty powerful stuff you asked for. It's probably none of my business, but…if you need help, you know you can come to Fred and me for anything, right?"

Harry nodded with a grin. "Yeah, I know, George. Thanks, but this is something that we have to take care of on our own. Next time we have something like this come up, I'll give you guys a call, alright?"

George shuffled his feet for a moment. "Well, if you really need us, call us."

Harry sniggered. "Alright."

"Well, I'll see you around, Harry."

"Oh, George! Wait!" Harry pulled a small bag from his pocket, tossing it to George. "For parts and labor."

George hefted the bag, hearing the clink of metal. Undoing the tie, he looked inside, only for the bag to explode in his face, covering his head in flour.

"My, my, George," Harry tutted. "You might want to get that dandruff problem looked at."

George stared at him for a moment, before bursting out in laughter. "Alright, that was a good one."

Harry tossed him another bag, this from the other pocket. "This one's not rigged."

Again, the Weasley opened the bag, this time keep it at arm's length. His eyes widened. "Harry, there must be twenty Galleons in here!"

"So?"

"So it's too bloody much, Harry!" He tried to push it back into Harry's hands, but it stuck to his palms.

"Tch, George," Harry said. "You should wash your hands after doing that. I'm definitely not taking that bag back now!"

"Harry, this isn't funny! You put a Sticking Charm on this!"

"That's right," Harry said. "And you'll never be able to get it off your hands unless you accept the money."

"Fine," George sighed.

Harry looked at him. "You realize that's twice I've pranked you in less than five minutes."

"Yes," George replied sullenly.

"Three times," Harry continued, never one to pass up playing 'poke the bear', "if you count my forcing you to take this money."

"Harry, you're pushing your luck."

"Just make sure the money goes to good use," Harry said. "And by good use I mean things that go boom." With that, the Boy-Who-Lived made a quick exit.

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"Alright. We ready to go?" Harry whispered as Lee Jordan finally left.

"Almost," David said. "Suggestion?" Harry looked at him questioningly. "Before we head out, probably a good idea to drain the tank."

Harry blinked. "Better now than in the middle of it, right?"

"I'd probably better go too," Neville said.

Within a minute, Neville and Harry were standing at urinals.

"So…" Neville said. "Be awful strange if someone walked in right now."

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Two first-years, dressed all in black, revved up and ready for combat? That'd raise a few odd questions."

"You really think there's going to be combat?" Neville asked quietly.

Harry shrugged. "I'd rather expect it and be pleasantly surprised than not expect it and be caught unawares."

"I'd rather it didn't have to be either way," Neville mumbled.

"Such is not to be," Harry said, performing the shake and zipping up.

"Why us, though?" Neville asked. "Aren't there any seventh-years who could back us up on this?"

"Nev, if you were a seventh-year, would you take a trio of jumped-up Firsties and a third-year seriously?" Neville pondered that for a moment and shook his head. "That's what I thought. As for why us in particular…well, ours is not to wonder why, but I do so anyway. And really, would you trust anyone else to do this? Would you wish it on anyone else?"

"No," Neville said.

"That's what makes you a Gryffindor, Neville," Harry went on. "You're unwilling to put others through things you wouldn't do yourself. You're brave enough and strong enough to take on the challenges that we're going to face without faltering." Harry thought silently for a moment about how different this Neville was from the usually meek boy Hermione had had to put under a Full-Body Bind the first time this had happened.

Well, mucking up the timeline is what he came for, so if Neville became stronger because of it, so be it.

Five minutes later, the four were assembled again. "Alright. Now are we ready?"

"Not quite," David said, a bit of mirth in his voice.

"What now?" Neville asked.

"Since I don't feel like breaking my nose again," David said, tapping his shoes and whispering a quiet spell, "I'm going to try something out. I really hope it works."

"Breaking his nose?" Neville asked, looking to Harry.

"Don't ask," Harry said with a lopsided grin.

He pointed his wand at his chest and incanted, his eyes tightly shut. The others watched as color flowed across his body, until he matched the wall behind him.

"Is that a Bedazzling Hex?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," David's voice came from the space where he used to be. "Is it working?" Harry tilted his head. He could see the outline of his friend, and could spot the slight distortion when he moved, but for someone who wasn't looking, he was as good as invisible.

"Not as good as an Invisibility Cloak," Harry said, pulling the item in question out, "but it'll do in a pinch."

"You have an Invisibility Cloak?" Neville asked, amazed.

"Was my dad's," Harry mumbled, throwing it over the three of them.

"Question, though," Hermione said as they moved out. "What happens if someone shines a light on us? Will we cast shadows?"

They stopped short.

"One in every crowd," Harry grumbled.

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The three stopped short, and Harry fought the urge to curse out loud.

Sitting in front of the entrance to the corridor that led to Fluffy's chamber was Mrs. Norris, as if she had been expecting them.

_Now what?_Harry thought frantically. _Can't stun her. Filch would…have kittens. Can't scare her away_. He felt a puff of air against the cloak, and a light tap on his mental shields. Harry took a hold of the link, and heard David's voice.

_I'm going to go make a noise nearby, and get her away from the door.__ Got it?_

_Got it. Make it big, but don't get caught._

_Will do._

Less than a minute later, there was a series of crashes as a dozen suits of armor jumped off their plinths and started to move. Listening to the noise, Harry detected a faint rhythm as they hauled the door open.

"What was that?" Hermione gasped, letting a breath whoosh out. Harry released a breath of his own that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"David," he replied, as the door shut quietly.

"Yeah, that was me," the boy confirmed, still camouflaged. "Every suit of armor for two corridors is doing an Irish jig."

"Nice," Neville said. "One day they'll probably make some big production out of that."

Harry fought back a smile. _Maybe I can get the trademark to Riverdance…_

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"That's a big dog," Neville said, staring at Fluffy. The dog was asleep, courtesy of the harp playing in the corner.

"I'd hate to see how they clean up after him," David said, canceling the Bedazzling Hex and circling around the massive canine. "There's no door back here, just more dog."

"That leaves either a concealed door or a hole in the floor," Hermione said.

"If it's concealed, we're out of luck," Harry said. "I wonder…"

"What?" Hermione asked. The harp stopped playing, and she paled.

"Neville, Hermione! Over here, now!" Harry hissed. The three first-years scurried in front of the three-headed dog as the heads began to wake up, hiding under the cloak. "When he rolls over, follow my lead! David, once we get him out of the way, see if there's a trapdoor and if you can get it open!"

"Gotcha," the American said, as the dog stood up, growling as its heads detected the scents of intruders.

Harry braced himself, before whipping the cloak off the three of them. "Who's a good boy?" He cooed, placing both hands on his knees. "You! Yes you are!" The dog hesitated, obviously confused. "Guys, help!"

Hermione snapped out of her shock first. "Who's a pretty puppy! Who's the cutest little doggie in all of Hogwarts?" Lowering her voice, she muttered, "I'm a cat person, but I'll go with this."

Neville quickly followed. "D'aww, such a cute guy, all fuzzy and…and…and fuzzy, and three-headed."

"Speak, boy!" Harry urged. "Speak!" The heads barked and howled, and Harry winced for a moment. "Good boy!" The dog leaned forward, its rear in the air and barked again, and Harry grimaced as his eardrums nearly ruptured. "Roll over, boy!" The dog threw itself to one side with a crash, exposing the trapdoor. "Good boy! David, go!" As David hauled open the trapdoor, Harry ran over, scratching the dog's belly. "Good boy! Guys, through the trapdoor!"

"Geronimo!" David shouted, hopping through.

"Navajo!" Hermione countered, following him down.

"Is this a Muggle thing?" Neville asked as he jumped.

"Good boy!" Harry continued, slowly backing away. "Now play dead!" The dog stiffened up, tongues lolling out of the side of its mouths. Harry backed up, before jumping through the trapdoor and landing on the squishy object he knew would be there.

"Harry?" David asked. "Two questions."

"Shoot."

"First, how the hell did you know that would work?"

"I figured Hagrid would have given him some sort of obedience training," Harry replied, shifting.

"Okay. And my second question. Why can't I move?"

"_Lumos_!" Harry's wand lit, exposing the plant. "Shite."

"Harry…" Hermione was struggling. "What is this?"

"Nev?"

"Devil's Snare," Neville said, lifting up his hand and watching as the vines wrapped around it. "Beautiful."

"That's nice and all, but how do we kill it?" David asked.

"You can't kill this thing!" Neville said, scandalized.

"Neville," David urged, as the plant began to wrap around his neck.

"This is a rare and endangered plant!"

"Neville!"

"It's not right to just kill it!"

"NEVILLE!"

"Fire! And light!"

"Works for me," Harry grunted as a thick creeper tightened around his midsection. "Devil's Snare, meet my friend, Mr. Flamethrower. _Incendio_!" At his shouted incantation, a thick stream of fire issued from his wand, forcing the plant back. As the vines retreated from his arms, David threw Harry the backpack full of Fred and George's goodies, and Harry reached in one-handed, bringing out a small glass globe as he continued to flame the plant. "Eyes shut, everyone!" He ordered, rapping on the globe with the butt of his wand to activate it, before throwing the globe against the plant and squeezing his eyes shut.

The globe detonated with a bright flash of light and a wave of heat, and the plant shook in protest, before dropping the four onto the ground.

Harry hit the ground, rolling against the wall. "Everyone okay?"

Hermione groaned as Neville helped her up. "Nothing bruised but my dignity."

"David?"

"I'm alright," the boy replied, face-down on the stone floor. "Broke my fall with my face."

"Walk it off. Let's get moving." They set off, and soon they heard a rustling sound.

"What on earth is…whoa." David was the first into the room, and he spotted the bird-like keys overhead.

"Birds?" Neville asked. "McGonagall's test?"

"Not birds," Harry whispered, just as in awe this time as he had been before. "Keys."

"You need a key for the lock over here," Hermione called, checking the door. "Big, old-fashioned, and silver."

"Well, there's brooms," Harry suggested.

"Harry," Neville said quietly. "I know you're a great flyer, and David's decent on a broom, but…Hermione and I aren't that good." Hermione nodded, and Harry shrugged.

"Alright, we'll do it the other way. _Diffindo!_" A key dropped to the ground, one wing missing. Harry snatched it up, pressing it next to the lock for a moment, before shaking his head and tossing it into the corner. "Nope. Next!_ Diffindo_!"

After almost ten minutes of the four of them shooting down keys and checking them, Hermione held aloft the proper key. "I got it!"

"Good! Let's get a move on!" She shoved it into the door, unlocking it, before tossing the crippled key on top of the pile of wriggling one-winged keys.

"Chess? Are you kidding me?" Hermione asked. "What, did they expect Ron to be here?"

"He's good at chess?" Neville asked.

"It's all he does when he should be doing his homework," Hermione grumbled. "He has to have gotten good at it by now."

Harry fought back a smile. "I have an idea," Harry said, walking to the pieces on the other side and whispering to the king and queen, before scurrying back to their side and doing the same.

The four pieces quickly moved to the center and conferred for a minute, before all the pieces on the board moved aside.

"What'd you do?" Hermione asked.

"Suggested they swap spouses. I always thought the conflict in chess was over someone's wife."

David gaped at him for a moment, before turning to Hermione. "Did he just-"

"Break the game, yeah," Hermione answered quietly.

"Let's go, shall we?" Harry said.

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"Oh, dear god," Hermione said, retching. "What is that thing?"

"I don't know," David said. "Is that…is that another troll?"

"I don't know," Neville said. "It's a lot bigger than the last one we saw. And I think its dead. Harry?" He turned and started. "Merlin! Harry! Where's your head?"

"I've got the Cloak wrapped around my face," Harry said, his voice muffled. "You think I'm going to throw up and die, like you people?" He opened the bag again, passing around gas masks. They quickly donned them, breathing in the soothing smell of rubber and charcoal filters.

"Let's go," Hermione muttered. "Before we pass out."

They entered the next chamber, ripping the gas masks off and breathing deep.

"What's left?" David asked, shaking his head, trying to clear it. "Potions?"

"Potions," Hermione confirmed, spotting the bottles on the table in the center of the room. She quickly scanned the scroll. "It's a logic puzzle," she said, sounding mildly amused and impressed. "Most wizards don't have a bit of logic. They'd be stuck in here forever."

"What do you mean, stuck?" Neville asked. "Couldn't they just…" he turned around to see the second set of flames. "Oh. Damn."

"I got a better idea," David said. "Eenie, meenie, minie, _Accio_!" He flicked his wand, and a Flame-Freezing Potion flew from the bag on Harry's back. David downed it, shivering. Gritting his teeth, he stuck his hands into the flames for a moment, before giving them a thumbs-up.

"Alright, everyone, bring it in," Harry said. The four closed together. "You guys have come with me this far, but I'm giving anyone who wants to drop out the opportunity. Once we get in there, we're facing Voldemort and whoever he brought with him. I strongly recommend you guys back out now."

Harry looked at David. The boy shook his head, giving him a quiet half-smile, half-smirk. He looked to the only female of the group. Hermione shook her head stubbornly, biting her lip. Harry looked to Neville, who seemed unsure. "Neville, nobody would think less of you. We've risked our lives just to come this far."

"Thanks, Harry," Neville said gratefully. "What do you want me to do, since I'm not going in there?"

"Go to Flitwick's office. Not McGonagall's, she'll flip out again. Tell him everything. Get help." Neville nodded, shaking hands with Harry and wishing him luck, before downing a Flame-Freezing Potion and stepping through the purple flames.

"You guys sure you want to do this?" Harry asked. "I mean, we could just stay here, and make sure he doesn't leave with the Stone. We wait for Neville to come back with some serious firepower, and let them take care of it."

"I'd rather he not get it, period," David asked. "What's to say he doesn't know we're out here, and isn't thinking about using it to make himself immortal right now?"

"Thanks for that wonderful thought," Hermione muttered.

"That's what I'm here for," David deadpanned, buffing his nails on his jacket.

"Seriously, though," Harry urged. "I'd rather not put you guys in danger. Or myself."

"Harry, shut up and let's go," Hermione said flatly.

The Boy-Who-Lived gave her a crooked grin. "Thanks, babe."

"In case the worst happens," David said quietly, "it's been fun, guys."

"Really?" Harry said. "Broken nose, life-threatening danger, constant danger of expulsion, life-threatening danger, constant danger of pranks by psychotic housemates, life-threatening danger, foreign country, life-threatening danger, hostile locals, life-threatening danger, messed up class system, life-threatening danger, bizarre environment, and life-threatening danger? That's fun to you?"

David nodded. "Lots of action, lots of chaos, and British accents. What more could a guy ask for?"

Harry grinned. "Let's go. The three strode through the flames.

A/N: Phew, finally got this hammered out. Thanks go to Grenouille, for beta-ing this impressively fast, considering how many corrections he made. Give him a hand, everyone. Now throw heavy objects at him because he needs to go finish More Than Familiar! Now dance! Dance for my amusement!

Then leave a review if the fancy strikes you.

- Lightning


End file.
